Where The Sun Sets Early
by JaymeDray
Summary: "I didn't know why they called them 'Careers'. Quite frankly, no one knew because it made no sense. What they should have actually called them, other than pricks, jerks and druggies, was mafia children because that's what they really were...and everybody knew." An AU set in high school, fueled by an overarching original crime subplot. Menage a Trois: Cato/Peeta/Marvel.
1. A Babe in the Woods

**As of February 1****st****, this fanfic has been officially turned into an original novel with the same name. For more information on how to find that fiction, visit my profile. For ****the original remains of this attempt continue below.**

****This fiction has been edited down and polished clean of the MA rating, February 7****th**** to comply with the rules of the community. There is no way to read the old version of this any longer however, the original novel does not need to be censored and will remain in full at Wattpad, an amateur writing site (See profile).**

**I do love feedback especially when I don't expect it :)**

**Much Love, **

**Jayme Dray (Formerly Young Artist 77, Y.A.77)**

* * *

**~ Where The Sun Sets Early ~**

**Pilot Chapter: A Babe in the Woods**

Unpacking my towels, I decided to take a soothing shower quickly before the entire dorm showed up. Hopefully, there would be nobody there to bother me. I needed to calm my nerves and the constant screams and shouts emanating from the rooms beside me were making my palms sweat. I didn't know what to do with myself because my roommate wasn't there yet and I wasn't familiar with the protocol. I had been warned that the academy had severe rules and traditions.

I wasn't ready for this life.

As I approached the communal bathroom, I heard voices inside. I was dreading having to share a place with more than ten other boys. I found that ridiculously uncomfortable not to mention unhygienic. I really wanted to take a shower after the ten-hour drive to this middle of nowhere but by the looks of it, I wouldn't be able to. I stood there in my flip-flops, clutching my fluffy towel to my chest and holding my shampoo in hand, trying to assess if I could confront the people about I was not good at the 'confronting' part. My old classmates called me a pushover. I glared my hatred for them at the door in front of me.

By the sounds emanating from the thin door, I assumed there were two boys inside, laughing and cursing like there were no faculty members living on the floor. I sighed deeply before pushing the door and entering the area. The bathroom was spacious but the shower space—ah the godforsaken shower space was communal. I gulped, trying to pretend that did not faze me. After all, what did I expect in a boys dormitory?

Two other boys were already occupying the area. One was tall, very fit and very blonde. I was pretty sure the guy was ninety-seven percent muscle. His shoulders were broad and his waist lean so I assumed he was a swimmer, maybe a baller. I knew he was an athlete for sure though because he had that very mouth-watering body. The other one had dirty blonde hair and very green eyes, slightly shorter and slightly less fit but nevertheless intimidating when he wasn't smiling. When he actually was it was a whole different story because he shed a couple of years, looking very childlike and innocent. It was a strange illusion.

I clutched the towel closer to my body, trying to shield my naked torso. I imagined the shower whispering in my ear: "I am not always full of people but when I am, they are bigger, badder and bulkier than you." I wanted to snort at my own geeky joke but I was miserable about the dilemma I was stuck in so I didn't. The boys didn't notice my presence so I stayed put, pretending to blend into the walls. I wondered if I could go back outside without them knowing.

"How do we do this?" The tall one questioned in between chuckles. His eyes were twinkling in amusement and he was holding a bottle that had some sort of thick, black liquid in it, oozing around ominously. I was apprehensive about the contents. I couldn't quite tell what was going on. He opened the bottle and sniffed it once, cringing back and scrunching his face. I wondered if what they were doing was dangerous but I tried to push that thought away, scolding myself against the paranoia. It triggered when I felt alone.

"I don't know. Here, like throw it in my hair I guess?" the other one answered, moving closer and lowering his head so his golden hair was facing the ceiling. I noticed that they were bare foot and I looked down at my own feet in annoyance. Was I being a clean-freak? God, they probably thought I was weird with my douchebag, Armani flip-flops. Could I remove them on time?

"Like pour _all_ of this bottle on it? Shit, man that doesn't sound right. Where's Glimmer when you need her?" The blonde continued, hesitating between drenching the other with what I assumed was hair dye. I couldn't understand what was going on with them and I felt as if I was that third wheel, standing awkwardly on the side, not in on the joke. This was ridiculous. I made myself an outcast even in a fucking public bathroom. What kind of moron was I?

"Glim, my twin sister Glim? In hell hopefully. Besides we are not telling her; we already went over that. Now, do it, I'm freezing my ass off. And try to avoid putting it in my ear," the shorter one mumbled, looking up to eye the other one expectantly before going back to staring at the tiles. The floor looked too dirty. Why were they not wearing flip-flops?

The blonde snorted, trying to still his hand from all the chuckles long enough to perform the job and I thought it about time to inform them of my presence. They looked like they weren't going to turn around anytime soon. Maybe I was interfering with something. They clearly didn't want anyone to know. I wanted to stay out of drama for as long as possible. It had a tendency to like my presence and chase me around like a obsessed stalker.

"Ugh, excuse me?" I asked, trying not to squeak, inching forward with all my shower supplies. Both of them startled momentarily, the blonde one almost dropping the bottle before turning around to look at me, the shorter one straightening. They looked back at each other, then back at me. I felt like a nuisance again. I should not have come in when it was occupied.

"You are excused," the blonder one muttered back, a grin on his face before going back to his original position. The other took the cue to look back at the ground and it was as if I wasn't there again. I stood silent, trying to figure out what to say next. If I weren't this nervous then my charisma would have kicked in by now. I was usually really good with words but I felt that they had the advantage in this situation being returning students and seniors. Or I assumed they were from their large physiques and even larger egos.

"Are you gonna shower? Go ahead. We don't mind," the other one mumbled from his crouch to interrupt my involuntary stuttering and I could barely make out his words because I couldn't see his lips moving. They acted as if they were the most important people in the world and I should have been worried about disrupting their vital activities. I disliked them already.

I grit my teeth though and placed my towel on the handle, revealing my flat but not so toned stomach. I played a sport too but it was soccer and I knew I wouldn't get the same respect as the football players. That did not upset me anymore; I had grown up with it, being underrated. I wondered what sports the two others played. Was it the stereotypical football? In my old school, if they saw someone like the blonde they would for sure recruit him. We weren't very blessed with good athletes there, or good anything for that matter. It was public school.

I tried to look away from them, hoping they would do the same. I didn't want to be caught staring in case that put me in a bad position. I didn't want to be 'the kid who startes at guys in the bathroom'. I knew if I wanted to survive in boarding school I would have to get used to these bastards because they clearly inhabited this dorm.

That is why I wanted to be put in District 12 or 10. Those dorms were practically invisible to the rest of campus, isolated from the student body. But my dad had insisted on my being in the most expensive one so I had ended up in Capitol. Right at the center of main campus, Capitol was the only co-ed dormitory where the boys and girls were just separated by a stairway, living on different floors. All the other dorms paired in what was called brother-sister dorms with the odd numbers being girl's dorms and the even boy's.

I had heard the entirety of the Capitol building was financed by alumni donations and that impressed me. Only prestigious schools got such active alumni bases. Capitol was also the smallest one, only sheltering around twenty-four teens. I had predicted what kinds of people would be willing to pay that money for such a small convenience: children grown up plagued by the 'rich-kid syndrome', most likely legacies: children whose parents had graduated from that school.

Back in the room, the blonde had started pouring the thick, black liquid on the others hair, smoothing it with his hands while the shorter one hissed, his hands on his knees. I could see by the lost stare in the taller's face that he had no idea what he was doing. They looked ridiculous. I had to roll my eyes because no matter what the circumstances, dying hair seemed excessively unnecessary.

"You sure this washes off right?" the victim asked and the torturer snorted out loud, stumbling with the bottle. By the scream that the short boy released, I knew he had gotten some of the chemicals somewhere unhealthy. Served him right. The blonde was now full blown laughing, while the other was wiping at his face angrily.

"That was my eye, you fucker. Jesus— control yourself," the blind one snapped, blinking rapidly to remove the offending substance before glaring at the other boy. From the corner of my eyes, I could see one of his eyes was red and irritated, contrasting badly against the green.

"My bad, my bad. Now get back here so we can finish. This kid desperately needs his private time. You doing okay there, buddy?" the blonde murmured, amused, and it took a while to comprehend that he was talking to me. I was getting used to being ignored.

My hand was still on top of the knob and I flushed red, realizing I had not made a move to start my shower, instead standing there like an idiot. I didn't want to honor his insult with a reply so I started the water, flinching at the cold droplets before the temperature changed appropriately. I heard both of their echoing laughter from under the shower and I bit my lip, trying to convince myself that they were just assholes and that they were not judging me right now, analyzing my body as much as I stared at theirs.

"Are you sure this is alright? Are we pushing it too far?" the shorter one asked. By now I could recognize their voices. The blonde had a louder, scarier voice, gruff. The shorter one had a smoother tone that at times showed traces of an accent I couldn't yet place. I knew it was soothing though. I was surprised that they could even recognize they were overstepping boundaries. They seemed like the type who just stomped around, not caring about the collateral damage.

"No, man. Don't be a pussy," the blonde immediately replied, snorting. Like I said, the Godzilla type. I was trying to understand what they were talking about because curiosity was getting the best of me. I was also trying to figure out why they were here so early. I was told returning students didn't get back until later tonight.

"I'm not. It's just—I _am _singing the song that Dima Bilan sung with pride, winning the entire thing for us," the reluctant one muttered. I could sense he was trying to think and talk at the same time. I didn't know exactly who Dima Bilan was or why he was singing in the first place but I assumed it had something to do with commencement ceremony tomorrow.

The singing also explained my attraction to his voice. I would not have expected it because looks usually override one's first impression. But as I was standing there, looking away from his built and just listening to his soft voice, I could certainly understand that he had potential without even hearing him sing. It was strange how judgments were based.

"Chill! It's funny," the taller eased the other's worries. I had yet to see anything funny about what they were doing.

"My father will see this," the short one whined, groaning shortly after. Why was his dad coming? I thought that tomorrow was only for the students, faculty and very few board members. Did his father sit on the board? Was this boy that important? That would explain a lot.

"Uncle Sergei will think it's hilarious. You know he likes this shit," the blonde scoffed, laughing as the other murmured in agreement. Somehow, I doubted 'Uncle Sergei' would like anything involving this cheap humor. But then again the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I was now trying to unsuccessfully imagine his father.

"Besides I have to play the fucking violin again; I have no sympathy for you," the taller sighed, growling at the other's chuckles. These two stumped me. The intimidating, jock-kind of guy played the violin? That was nerd shit, the "I-go-to-band-camp-and-have-braces" kind of nerd. I didn't even play an instrument and I was as artsy as they got.

It frustrated me that I couldn't analyze the two boys just from their looks. I had come from a high school where you could tell at first sight who was studying and who was smoking, who would succeed and who would bum in their parents' house, who had common sense and who had just social skills. I could handle that; I knew what to expect. Something told me it was different here though because the school was exclusive and if you weren't smart, you were not here, which narrowed the pool to such a peculiar group of people.

"You're good at the violin. I don't understand why you keep fighting it," the dyed one mumbled gingerly, informing me that this was a touchy topic. Immediately, the other one shut the comment down with a sarcastic snort in response.

"Because it's gay—for lack of better word. You sing; that can be altered to sound cool," the taller complained and I rolled my eyes because he had used 'gay' as a description of something bad and that was a pet-peeve of mine. I had been wrong; he was just an ignorant jock. I didn't hear the other one respond so I assumed there had been some sort of nod and the room fell in silence again.

With that they went back to the task at hand and I went back to being ignored. I thought for a second that I had misjudged them, the second before they admitted they were doing this entire experiment for shits and giggles. They were children.

I kept my eyes glaring at this one spot of dirt on the wall to stop from wanting to turn around and flee. I was scrubbing my body so hard that the skin had turned raw, the red standing out in the white foam. I had blocked out the two who were still giggling and fooling around with the dye. I couldn't hear their statements over the sound of the cascading water and I was glad.

I wish I didn't feel so foreign in this environment but it wasn't my fault. I had lived home with my parents during my first two years of high school back in LA before they had decided that I needed to socialize more, break my bubble. I had not planned to leave my home until I went to college and even then I was looking at UCLA. What could I say? I was a family type of guy. That was my excuse for not wanting to leave the house much.

I was comfortable there. I had settled into my routine life but they had to intervene again and break it. It had been that stupid advertisement. It had convinced them of the prestige and excellence of this school. It had persuaded them into thinking that this was the best way to get into a prestigious college. Esurio Ludus, also known as The Academy, was the prep-boarding school in the middle of Ass-of-the-world, MA. I had refused, fought them on the idea but my step-mom had finalized it and there was nothing to be done. I had applied, hoping to not make it on their very exclusive acceptance list.

But I had and now I was here, entering as a new junior and living over six hours away from my home, more alone than ever. I didn't even know how to make friends; my skills were rusty. I didn't need to try hard to get the friends I hanged out with in high school. We had grown up together.

"Can you stop being such a faggot?" I heard the statement echo clearly from the walls of the bathroom and I stiffened, clutching my sponge so hard that I morphed its shape permanently. My breath quickened and I started to tell myself that they weren't talking to me, that they couldn't possibly know because hell, I didn't know.

My eyes squirmed, pleading for a chance to look around and I complied, turning slightly to stare at them again. I expected to make contact with their clear eyes but I was surprised to see they were sitting on the floor, leaning on the wall. I flinched at the idea of the disgusting floor but I assumed they needed to wait for the dye to take effect before washing it. The one that used to have dirty blonde curls was now sporting very jet-black hair and I gaped. I had to double take at how different he looked and how green his eyes were. The dark hair made him seem way more intimidating because now that angelic look that everyone associated with blonde ringlets completely faded away. I wondered about how long he would stay like this.

My eyes involuntarily drifted down his chest and I squinted, amazed, noticing that on the left side of his chest, right above his heart, he had a beautifully detailed tattoo of a rose. The petals were shaded gray and the stem stretched to the ribs. The tattoo seemed very familiar but I couldn't quite place where I had seen it before. I guess roses weren't that uncommon as tattoos.

It was only once I spotted the other one that things got complicated in my life. Because the blond had a similar tattoo stretching on his side, right below his arm on his left rib, curving around his back. I had not seen it the first time because his position covered it but I could see it now that he was ruffling the other ones hair with his stained fingers, the inked skin stretching in front of my eyes. They were so similar in style, clearly done by the same artist and I thought about how it could have easily been one of those drunken-night pacts but deep inside I felt it was more than that. It held significance because—

I froze in spot because I remembered, because the image flashed in my mind from the last time I had seen the documentary, sitting on the shitty desks of my old high school. I had been the only one paying attention because I had an interest in criminology ever since a young age.

That was the Black Rose, the main symbol for the Bratva, the brotherhood.

They were oblivious to my staring, fake wrestling each other and cursing. They were very self-centered I noticed; they didn't have that sixth sense that lets you know when people are staring. Usually that meant that they were either really dumb or really used to the attention. Somehow, as much as I wanted to believe it was the first one, I knew it had to be the latter.

I stood there pathetically grasping at straws to explain this phenomenal coincidence. My mind was still reeling from my previous assumption and I had to slap myself mentally, reminding my brain that the mind saw what it wanted to see. I was clearly wrong and I needed to go back to my shower, forget about it.

"I'm just saying you look good. Doesn't he look good?" the blonde chuckled, shrugging before turning to address me and I went rigid, biting the inside of my mouth to remind myself that it was an innocent question. They didn't know they were hitting a soft spot. The now-brunette looked at me curiously, scoffing at his friend and jabbing him lightly on the ribs. They were both waiting for an answer. I couldn't give them one.

I turned off the shower and stomped out of the room, quickly grabbing my towel and hiding as much of my body in it as I could.

My flip-flops made squeaky noises on the way out.

I would truly hate this.

* * *

Sitting on the floor with my legs crossed, I waited for the other boys to join. I was told we were having a dorm meeting for the start of the year, requiring all of us to be present. I had inched my way there, wearing a pair of jeans and a cardigan expecting some sort of formality only to be met by boys in sweats and boxers. I felt out of place again. Where was my roommate? If he were here I would have some goddam guidance. I wouldn't have to stand out like a sore thumb.

I looked around to analyze my future dorm-mates. Most seemed plain looking, chattering amongst each other while we waited for the dorm-head to show up. I had met him before when I first arrived. His name was Haymitch Abernathy and he looked like a deadbeat. Needless to say I placed no trust in him and my safety could not be in worse hands. He had only been present long enough to let me into the dorm past the alarmed doors and tell me that my roommate would be here soon to show me around. False.

I looked around and didn't notice the two bastards from the bathroom incident. I wondered where they were. Knowing them, they would probably show up 'fashionably' late to grace us with their presence. We were only twelve boys so it was hard to miss anyone.

I heard their distinctive laughter echoing from the hallway and I cringed, flinching mentally and bracing myself for the encounter. When they appeared the entire room fell in silence facing them with grins on their faces. I was shocked at how much they looked like dogs, awaiting their masters with their eyes bright and their tongues out. It was disgusting.

I didn't expect them to be better dressed but I was still surprised at how casual their outfits were. The blonde had on a black t-shirt and a pair of plaid blue boxer shorts. He wasn't even wearing shoes, having left his room in his socks. I guess wearing shoes when you had carpeted floors was stupid. I would keep a note of that.

The black haired one had on a pair of grey sweats, folded up to his mid-calves and a light-blue shirt that had the name of the school printed across and a picture of the silhouette of a female, diagonally gracing its fabric. I found it inappropriate that the gear displayed that but I had heard it came from the fact that sounding the initials, E.L, resembled the french word 'elle', which translated to 'she'. Witty, I presume. He was completely barefoot. I wondered if his feet had developed immunity from every type of bacteria possible. The room erupted in laughter and cheers as soon as they became visible.

"Shit, Marvel your hair!" One boy screamed, pointing like an idiot. I guess the short one was named Marvel but what kind of fucking name was that? Didn't he say his twin was called Glimmer? That was retarded of their parents. I had never heard that before.

"What happened Marv, don't blondes have more fun? Ain't that right, Cato?" another older one quipped; all of them pretend whistling and showering the two in attention. They didn't deserve this. They probably went through that entire process just to get this type of reaction. Attention whores.

"Marvel, stop being so good-looking, jeez," a smaller boy snorted sarcastically and I was stunned by how sharp his tongue was when he had such a small frame. Wasn't he scared of the two? He was probably the youngest one there with extremely curly blonde hair and big, blue eyes.

"Adri, I will fuck you up, kid," Marvel replied to the sarcastic one in mock anger before ruffling his hair and settling on the floor next to him. Cato was right behind, leaning on the couch in between another boy's legs. The one whose space got invaded didn't shift away; instead he just spread his legs, trying to get his feet in the vicinity of Cato's face. The blonde didn't find this as funny as the giggling brunette, turning around to glare at him in mock anger, threatening his life again. Threats of murder were just thrown around in this environment like it was small all seemed so comfortable and close to each other. I would never be able to interrupt the friend circles long enough to be part of them.

"Cato did it for you?" the little one, I guess his name was Adrian, muttered surprised, leaning forward to face the other boy who was lounging, taking as much space as possible on the floor. His posture screamed: 'I own this place and nobody will sit without me being comfortable first.' Typical alpha male attitude.

"Yeah, you little fucker. Feast your eyes upon my ingenuity," the blonde snapped back, smirking and I was at loss of words with their language. The kid looked so young, he might as well be a child. I assumed he was a freshman, around fourteen because they didn't let anyone younger than that board. If he were a freshman though, how did he know the older boys at such a friendly level? He seemed way too comfortable with the jerks to be a new boy. That couldn't be just his personality. If it were, I would be ready to kill myself at being this bad at the whole outgoing thing.

"Looks professional," the other one murmured passively, rolling his eyes and sticking his tongue out when the bigger boy flipped the bird. They were all so vulgar. They acted like savages. I pulled my knees to my chest, leaning against the wall tiredly and hoping for this to be over soon. I couldn't stand their loud mouths any longer.

From the thin material of Marvel's shirt I could faintly make out the contours of the rose and it mocked me. I desperately wanted to ask somebody about it. It had been haunting me ever since I saw it the first time. I had immediately sat down on my unmade bed, unpacked and googling information on the Bratva.

I had known they were the most notorious Russian mafia, consisting of many different groups aligned together. They had bled out of the Soviet Union during its collapse and settled in many cities in the world. Three of the groups were most known, the Solntsevskaya, the Black Rose and the Odessa in Ukraine. Recently active and very much public figures, the leaders of the groups liked to keep up appearances because they tried to show off that though everybody knew who they were, nothing could be done about it. The government protected these fuckers now; they had connections everywhere.

I looked back at the two boys, staring at how blonde their eyebrows were and how brightly their eyes shone. They were clearly of Aryan decent. My mind was putting pieces together that didn't even belong in the puzzle. I had automatically assumed that these two were part of some Russian mafia because one was blonde and the other had a rose tattoo. They were too young for that. What would they be doing in the middle of the United States in a random school in Massachusetts anyway?

Haymitch finally stumbled in the room, with his unshaven beard and his long hair, one of his hands scratching his chin while the other one held a folder. He was reading through the contents of it before looking up and grinning at us.

"Welcome back gentlemen," he addressed us all and I remained silent while some others, mainly the two annoying ones answered back with kiss-ass phrases such as 'it's good to be back, sir'. They were mocking him and I didn't know how much the head was aware of that.

"Quick check-in to make sure we are all here," he mumbled, looking down again and reading through the names. I spaced out, glaring at the way his tie was not done properly and how it clashed with the color of his shirt. By the names that I was barely listening to I could assume most of these boys were of foreign origin. Weird, unpronounceable last names everywhere.

"Cato Arshavin?" the rugged man mumbled and the blonde raised his hand in a peace motion, muttering a 'yo'. Everything he did grated my nerves. He seemed like such a force. There existed real human beings like that? I was not aware, chilling back home in my small, cozy neighborhood.

"Marvel Solntsevskaya?" he murmured next and my mind hiccupped. What did he just say?

Marvel waved from his seat slouching on Cato's side and Haymitch commented on his hair, chuckling and shaking his head. I couldn't get the actual words though because my thoughts were running a mile an hour. Those two names were definitely reminiscent of my Google search.

That could not have been a coincidence. I mean both these boys sporting black rose tattoos and inheriting the exact same last names? I wasn't crazy. I wasn't paranoid about sleeping in a strange, unsafe place on my first day. I wasn't trying to make everyone into a scary monster. These two were the descendants of the greatest Russian mafia leaders of our time. It was casual, totally. This happened in real life. I mean mobsters had sex too right? Reproduced. Oh, lord. I was too fatigued. That was it. I was hearing things.

Apparently I wasn't hearing my name because it had been said several times before Haymitch, slapped me lightly on the head, waking me up and I stared at him in surprise to see him give me a worried look. I mumbled an apology, my face heating up. I glanced around to see everyone observing me in curiosity because I didn't belong. I was the new toy. The two Russians, because I had determined that's what they were at this point, were smiling in amusement, still collapsed on top of as many people as possible. They didn't know I had discovered their identities. What would they do if they did?

I quickly dropped my eyes on the floor, feeling their heated stares on my head.

"You really need sleep, boy. Everyone, this is Peeta Mellark. He will be joining us as a new junior so be welcoming," Haymitch announced, glaring at Marvel who snickered immaturely. He then ordered me to tell them a little about myself, the part that I was dreading.

"Uh well, I'm from LA—" I started lamely, not knowing quite what the many pairs of eyes where expecting. I hadn't even gone through half my sentence before the blonde interrupted me.

"Where's that?" he asked and I was sure he was just trying to be annoying. He knew how much I was struggling. I fidgeted with my shirt, pursing my lips once before opening my mouth to speak again. This was my future and if I had to hate anyone it had to be my parents.

"That's in Cali—California—" I started to grit though my teeth before Haymitch interrupted me, holding his hand out and murdering the smirking Cato with his eyes.

"Don't answer that. Cato! _Be-have_. Got that?" He muttered and many more snickers were heard around the room at the scolding. Haymitch muttered an insult under his breath, which he thought I wouldn't catch before starting to list all the rules. I guess he did know that the two were purposely trying to get on his last nerve. I wondered why he didn't take more action to stop them.

"You are preaching to the choir here, H-dog," Cato voiced again and I made a face, shaking my head at the absurdity of the nickname. Was this guy for real? I was definitely judging him now. Adrian and Marvel collapsed in laughter like the little children they were and the chestnut hair boy behind Cato lightly slapped him in the head, trying hard to keep a straight face.

"Stop that nonsense or so help me God you will never see the world outside this campus for a month," Haymitch threatened, pointing at the trio warningly but I could see that he was amused. I knew he was trying hard to pretend that he was unbiased, that he didn't secretly love the idiocy of their statements. It was easy to see there was something attractive about their demeanor; it pulled you in for some reason that I had yet to figure out. I had never had that special ingredient.

"Oh, blue-card threats already? I see you, I see you. No love at all, huh?" Cato retorted, grinning maniacally and I was left wondering about what the hell a blue' card was. I wished somebody had explained the rules to me better. Why did I have to be so fucking invisible to everyone? Couldn't they see I was struggling?

Haymitch shook his head in annoyance, pretending not to hear the blonde and continuing his speech. He must have been used to dealing with these behaviors—his job was to be the head of a dormitory full of boys. He must have had some sort of training though it seemed highly unlikely. I wondered if he went back to his apartment, which was attached to the dorm, and drank until he forgot he lived next to masturbating, teenage boys. What a morbid thought.

Speaking of alcohol, he spoke heavily about the drug and alcohol policy: no matter if you were legal or not, the school required you to be free of chemicals when enrolled. Seemed simple; I never got into that stuff anyway. Something told me that a lot of people broke that rule though. That is why he was enforcing it. They were stupid teens so I knew what I was up against trying to preach a drug-free lifestyle. Immediately my thoughts went to the inked kids—was I being stereotypical?

Midway through the speech about sit-down dinners and formal chapels and Sunday room checks, I spaced out. I knew it was stupid of me since he was probably going through all of these again for my and the freshmen's sake. I just couldn't get my brain to concentrate. It had been too long of a day. I would get it eventually anyway. Once bitten, twice shy seemed like a good way to go about it.

I raised my eyes again, trying to search for the tattoo that had been bothering my thoughts. It fascinated me because I doubt that they didn't know the significance when they got it. It was a sign of initiation when placed on the chest, or so Google said.

I found his sky blue shirt but my eyes, tired and disobedient, slid up and I ended up looking at him while he was looking at me. He was fully lying on the floor now, barely looking up, leaning on the blonde's side, his chin on the boy's chest. I remembered his harsh words in the bathroom and I wondered how he was this comfortable touching another boy if he presented himself as that homophobic. It was a curious case really. They seemed awfully close with each other and I felt jealous. I didn't know of who or why but I rationalized my thoughts as a normal reaction to missing all my best friends and being stranded alone.

I was still locking eyes with him and he grinned at me like a Cheshire cat before he moved to pull down the V-neck of his shirt, straining it against the fabric so I could openly see half of his tattoo. A shudder ran down my back in fear and my hands started trembling so I hid them in my lap. He looked amused—I tried to tell myself—not mad, not dangerous. He was just a boy. I definitely liked his blonde hair better.

I didn't know what expression I was showing to him but it seemed to make him grin wider because he made a face at me, doing that classic 'duck' pose that I have seen girls do, as if modeling for a pretense picture before the blonde nudged his attention away.

The shirt went back to hiding his tattoo and I went back to breathing again.

I didn't know what had just happened. It had been weird. I looked around to see if anybody else noticed, wrapping my arms around myself pathetically. Haymitch was still talking. The others were just listening to him. It was as nothing had happened.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the blond glare at the other one, slightly pushing him away, dropping him on the floor from his chest. There was whispering, rushed and irritated but I couldn't tell what they were saying because it was in a different language. After their small discussion, which Haymitch interrupted with a stern look—the man had no respect here—the raven-haired boy dragged himself up and whispered something on the other's ear.

Whatever the secret was it calmed Cato back down to his original state and put that knowing smirk in his face. Marvel pulled himself back to his previous slouched position, in the middle of Cato and Adrian. They both stared at me again momentarily before looking up at Haymitch as he finished his speech.

I groaned mentally because with those two it was as if every interaction I made caused a spark that was never strong enough to move the chess piece one square ahead. It always went back to the start and if I didn't know I was sane, I would have doubted anything had ever happened in the first place.

I knew that somehow I had brought attention to myself though and I despised my socially awkward attitude for that. I just wanted to blend in, camouflage myself into the surroundings; I was good at that. I wasn't supposed to attract the attention of an entire mafia organization.

"Where's Thresh?" Adrian asked, interrupting Haymitch's sentence and everyone's attention peaked again. The sleepy haze that had befallen us all retracted back. I wondered why Thresh had such importance.

"He got delayed at the airport. He is flying here from South Africa. He'll be back by tomorrow," Haymitch explained reluctantly and I heard a few excited murmurs and people started discussing this character named Thresh.

"He went back to Jozi? You know what that means…," Cato screamed slyly earning himself a round of laughter and sounds of agreement. Haymitch sighed, having given up on the situation. Instead he dismissed us all to bed and I saw everyone start to lazily shuffle.

Cato moved first, trying to catch the brown-haired boy he was leaning on before he ran off, screaming in his thunderous voice to get his attention. The brunette's name was Edan and they were arguing about rooming. Recently every piece of information I got, I kept a mental note of, trying to adapt to my surroundings.

Marvel's head practically slammed on the floor at the sudden movement, his support having abandoned him. He cursed out loud, dragging himself up lazily. Instead of chasing after the blonde, he lunged for the curly-haired one who was giggling at the incident, grabbing the laughing Adrian off his feet, throwing him on the couch and grappling playfully as the other screeched and snickered. The little one was so freakin little that the black haired boy with the stupid name could pick him up easily with one arm and throw him over his shoulder. Hearing them fool around made me want to retreat in my shell a lot more. Like I had said they were already a group. I was an outsider. I would always be.

As I stood there, waiting to urge my feet to stop torturing my mind and start moving towards my sanctuary, a hand was placed on my shoulder and I turned around to see Haymitch looking at me in sympathy.

"Sorry about those three, boy. They are an acquired taste that I have yet to acquire," he joked, trying to get me to ease up and I looked at Marvel again who had the other boy pinned down and was now working to get his ass on top of the younger's face without releasing his hands. I doubt I would acquire this taste either. It didn't seem possible for these people to be likable in my eyes.

"I'll deal. Are they from around here?" I asked, pretending to be casual about the topic. Inside I was dying to know whether my fears had been right. Haymitch raised an eyebrow in suspicion before choosing to indulge me. He probably felt bad that I had to be thrown in this misery of a dorm.

"Oh, no, no. Marvie over there is from Moscow in Russia, born and raised. Cato lives in New York, originally from St. Petersburg. Adrian, the little frosh with the foul-mouth, also lives in the City. He is from Italian descent though. Very ethnic those three, Marvel had an accent until basically last year," he continued to ramble and I was afraid to stop him in case he realized he was spewing out facts.

I wanted to know as much as possible about that clique and this seemed to be the only occasion. I had been right on my assumptions about the Russians. The young one was Italian. I wondered about what his connection was to the Bratva. Did he know what I had just discovered?

But then again, my love for criminology was making me see adventures where they weren't. I was pathetic. I couldn't even take myself seriously at this point. I wouldn't be mentioning this to Gale anytime soon. He would think I was being a whining bitch to escape boarding school.

"Did not!" Marvel protested from his position, straddling the other squirming and pleading boy. I wasn't aware he could listen in to the conversation. I didn't like that. He jumped off the couch, joining our circle and standing next to Haymitch a cunning smile on his face.

"Hi Peeta. I'm Marvel. We didn't get the chance to formally introduce ourselves. Haymitch here is in love with me—" Marvel started in a sickly sweet voice, struggling to hold back his chuckles and I was getting frightened of this boy. I desperately wanted him to go away so I could lock myself in my room and cry on the phone to my best friend who would call me insane.

"It's too early to start this again, Marvel. Come back Christmas time and I'll indulge you. And that is Mr. Abernathy to you, brat. Now run along; I have to talk to Peeta," Haymitch muttered, annoyed and I was glad he was shooing the grinning boy away. I would be a thousand times calmer without his demanding presence. I complimented Haymitch for being able to handle him so smoothly though. He had a lot of patience with the boy, probably used to living with him the past four years.

"Sure, sure. Since you were an asshole and didn't let Cato and I room together this semester, can I sleep at Clove's tonight? I have trust issues. My roomie might cut my gorgeous, colored hair at night," Marvel asked, faking the puppy dog eyes and I was surprised by two facts. The first that the Russian bff-s who were constantly in each other's presence weren't sharing a living space. Thank the lord. Separate that toxicity. The second that he would even get the guts to ask to sleep at a girl's room. I thought that was against the rules. Not to mention the insulting language. Who the hell did this kid think he was? Some sort of god?

"Umm, let me think for a second—no. Sleep well, kid. Get Sonny to lower his music while you're at it," Haymitch stated plainly, giving him a daring look that made him grumble and tread away on his cute, little feet. What the actual fuck was wrong with me? I was developing Stockholm Syndrome amongst other syndromes like paranoia and schizophrenia and bipolarity.

"Who's Clove?" I asked the most prominent of the many questions that the conversation arose in me as soon as he left and Haymitch gave me an annoyed look, not in the mood to humor my questions any longer. I shrugged, looking innocent. After all that seemed to work for Marvel. I could play at this game too. I widened my eyes and tried to seem lost-looking. It seemed to work because Haymitch looked around once before sighing and spilling information. I must not have been that bad at my façade.

"This little Ukrainian fire-cracker that hangs around the dorm and vacuums all the leftover food in her stomach. She's the same grade as you. Does it matter? You will see her soon. About your roommate, Thresh, like I said he will be coming soon. He is a senior but quiet, reserved, unlike the other ones here. He will respect your space and give you some heads up-s," Haymitch explained and I nodded because what I was really thinking about was the Ukrainian girl.

As Haymitch dismissed me with a tap on the shoulder and an encouraging, toothy smile, I hurried back to my room, repeating to myself to not run into the others. I looked at the labels on the doors as I passed, trying to create a cognitive map of who lived where. The hallway was L-shaped with six doubles. There seemed to be no way to get a single here.

That would drive me crazy, I needed my alone time. Right next to mine and Thresh's room, was Adrian and another boy. One further down, Cato and Edan. The last one was Marvel and his roommate, who I guess was named Shunsuke. I had seen the kid in the room. He was Asian, probably from Japanese descent and Haymitch had called him 'Sonny.' I wondered where the duo would hang out but I didn't dwell on it too much because I didn't care as long as it wasn't in my room. I wonder what Thresh thought of them.

Locking my door and taking a deep breath, I wiped the sleep from my eyes and pulled out my comforter and pillow, clumsily laying them on the bed, not having the patience to really make it. Laying in the dark, I google-d the names I had encountered today but nothing came up at first. It was as if these children never existed. If they were really the heirs of the mafia, they would be all over the Internet by now. After an hour of searching, my eyes started to drift close and I pushed the laptop aside, crawling into my comforter which had been laid like a taco to account for both a top and a bottom sheet.

I feel asleep, listening to the sounds of chattering and stomping, screaming and laughing, the sounds of a dorm that had now become my new home.

Why was it that wherever I went I ended up hating my brothers?


	2. A Bitter Pill to Swallow

**Chapter 1 : A Bitter Pill to Swallow**

_Peeta's POV (Saturday)_

The alarm went off and I mumbled something to my brother about shutting it up. It kept beeping annoyingly, getting louder and I was getting frustrated. I shifted around in bed and my face scraped along the unmade, scratchy consistency of the mattress. That bolted me awake and I sat up, looking around in fear at my unfamiliar surroundings. The room was barren, the walls empty and luggage just littered the floor.

Then I remembered. I wasn't at home anymore. I was in boarding school.

"It's five am, ass-wipe. Shut that fucking alarm off!" I heard the boy from next-door scream, annoyed, and I remembered I wasn't alone. I stumbled out of bed, bumping my knee on the chair and cursing before silencing the alarm with trembling hands. The room plunged into silence and I could hear how heavy my breathing was from my anxiety.

I leaned on the bed once more, barely sitting down, rubbing my eyes and sighing. I hated how paper thin the walls were. The rooms shared the ventilation system so the air-conditioning and the heat went to every inside. For that reason, I could basically hear everything that went on in our entire hallway. Last night had been hell to fall asleep to seeing as everyone was super excited to be back with his friends. If I had been less fatigued, I could have probably gotten a lot of insight out of it because the boys were screaming and laughing like no other up until the early hours of the morning. It was Friday the night I arrived and I had heard that Saturday was set aside for unpacking and getting comfortable. There would be no required activities.

I got up and, with heavy feet, dragged myself to the bathroom. I remembered why I had set the alarm for so early. I desperately needed to shower every morning and I doubted I would be the only one. Trying to avoid those crowded shower spaces that happened around seven am, I set my alarm two hours ahead to make sure I had enough solitary time. I knew I had to find another solution soon though because I felt exhausted and I couldn't keep this up for too long.

The lights in the hallways were always on and I wondered if they spent a fortune on the electric bill. My eyes struggled to adjust before I found my way to my destination. I stared at the slits under the doors to see if anybody else was awake. All of them were dark except for the one in Marvel and Sonny's room, which had a small, probably desk light on. I found that strange and chuckled, thinking that maybe they were afraid to sleep with the lights off. Their room was right next to the bathroom and I was afraid that the noise from the shower would wake them.

Entering the bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror to check if I looked as bad as I felt. The dark circles around my dulled-blue eyes told me that I had not gotten any sleep. My entire body hurt from overtiredness but I needed to do this and I was certain the cool water would rinse off the fatigue. So I stepped under the shower, placing my forehead on the cold tiles and feeling the warm droplets soak my back and ease the tension in my muscles. It felt good to let my guard down for a little. The area had two lights, one for the urinals, toilets and sinks and one for the communal shower. I decided to turn only the first one on because I liked the darkness that enveloped the shower area. It was too early to be under bright lights and that usually gave me migraines in the first place.

I heard the screeching sound of an alarm from the room next-door at the same time that their door was practically knocked down and Cato's booming voice was heard, following Marvel's annoyed exclamation.

"Sonny, shut that fucker up!" Marvel immediately groaned, his voice heavy with sleep, and I heard his roommate chuckle.

"Rise and shine, Marvie!" Cato yelled from the open door, clearly amused and very much awake. I startled alert, moving closer into the shadowed area, trying to conceal myself. What the hell were they doing awake this early? Was this some sort of prank, those initiation tricks that the seniors tried to play? The alarm was still going off and their laughers had increased. I doubted anybody in the dorm was asleep at this point.

"Hey, shut that off, man. You're driving everyone half-insane," Cato finally exclaimed and I heard shuffling before the noise disappeared. Now that it was nighttime and no other noise could pollute the dorm, I could hear their conversations as if I was in the room with them. I felt exposed, very uncomfortable.

"You asshole! Stop that," Marvel complained, still sleepy while the other two had moved closer to, what I assumed, was his bed. They were all gathered in the corner closest to the bathroom. At least that's where the noise was coming from.

"Wake up, Marvel. He's filming you," Sonny informed the other one apathetically and the entire idea creeped me out because it was way too early and because the blonde had decided to wake up only for the sake of making somebody's life more miserable. This dorm scared me and the idea of being videotaped made me want to turn off the shower and hide in my room again. But I didn't want to encounter them outside whilst covered in my white towels so I stayed put, hoping they would go back to sleep soon.

"You are such a retard! Just leave me the fuck alone," Marvel exclaimed and there was wrestling and giggling from the other two. I could detect how annoyed the awoken one was by the tension in his voice. He was not a morning person that much was for sure.

"It's hockey time! It's hockey time!" Sonny chanted and I heard groaning and fake sobbing. So the boys played hockey? Seeing as they were Russian that would make sense. By his small built, I would guess Marvel was a forward, agile enough to score goals. He must have been fitter than I first thought.

"Alright, alright. I'm awake. Jesus Christ, I just want to die," Marvel whined while Cato laughed again, "Can you stop that? You don't even have Tennis today. Did you wake up just—You have no life, seriously. Why are we friends?"

"You are going to find this very amusing tonight. Besides, I knew Sonny needed some help with rising the dead here," Cato explained with an amused tone before I heard the sounds of wrestling around and the door was slammed again with Cato banging on it from the outside.

"You are such an ungrateful, little bitch, you know that?" He was shouting through the door and I wondered why he bothered to irritate his lungs because even whispers could be heard through that material. Nothing was kept a secret here. By his tone, I couldn't tell whether he was really mad or not. It would be unreasonable if he were to be though since he was being the nuisance.

"Go fuck yourself! You're dead to me," Marvel yelled back and I heard Cato and Sonny giggle one more time before he trudged back to his room and closed the door. I hadn't realized how inactive I had been during their encounter but when the hallway fell back into silence, I heard my ragged breaths and it was if I had not breathed at all prior to that point. I had goose bumps on my body and I hadn't realized that the water had changed temperature so I hurried to switch it back, trying to get on with my shower as if nothing was wrong. I hated when I had to hurry.

I heard a door open and before I had time to think about who it was, the bathroom door was pushed wide, revealing a slouchy Marvel, yawning insistently and going his hand through his messy, unkempt hair. He was in a pair of black briefs with a towel over his shoulder. I tried to merge into the wall but I knew I was avoiding the inevitable. He was clearly here to shower and there was no way I could hide. I pretended to scrub my body, minding my own business while he moved to brush his teeth, his eyes still ninety percent closed. I was surprised he could maneuver himself around the area.

After he finished, he placed his brush on a cup in one of the cubbies next to the sink and moved to get a bottle of shampoo out of another bag. I noticed that all the other cubbies but one were full and I assumed that had to be mine. They placed all their bathroom materials there so they wouldn't have to drag them back and forth, which made sense. Only that it didn't because I didn't really trust people with things I put in my mouth or on my face. How did they know nobody else used them or worse soiled them? I would keep dragging mine; I didn't mind.

Lazily, he slid his bare feet all the way to shower area, taking the closest shower possible that placed him diagonal to me. He had yet to say anything to acknowledge my presence and I didn't know whether that was on purpose or not. That would always be my dilemma with these two. Should I have made a move? Probably. We were both just showering next to each other. I thought I should get this chance to get in good terms. After all, he had been the one who approached me yesterday and I doubted he would be that sassy and sarcastic in this state.

I flinched, barely containing a scream, when I heard the loud sound of plastic crashing against the ground. I turned around swiftly just in time to see him sigh and smack his face, rubbing his eyes. My eyes searched for the object that caused the disruption and I spotted his bottle of shampoo, sitting on the ground.

"Give me a break," he muttered under his breath as he reached for the dropped bottle, lying on the floor sideways with some of its contents spilling out from the opened top. From his crouched position I got a very graphic view of his behind and I decided that it was time for me to make my presence known. It felt awkward with both of us naked, having morning conversations. I would have to wake up even earlier tomorrow it seemed.

"Good morning," I stated because it seemed like a good place to start and he startled badly, pulling himself upright and slamming the back of his head against the shower faucet painfully. My hands went to cover my eyes and I scrunched my face panicked at his inappropriate scream as it echoed back and forth in the bathroom walls. My heart started beating faster and I cursed myself for having such fucked up timing. I did not even know what to expect from his reaction.

"Mother—! God! Ouch—shit! Fuck that hurts," he kept cursing under his breath, crouching on the floor and holding his head with both hands. I desperately wanted to see if he was bleeding; I felt guilty.

"Are you dying in there, man?" I heard Sonny scream from the room next door and Marvel growled under his breath, kicking the shampoo bottle all the way across the wet bathroom floor and it slid like a puck on ice. I wanted to see him play. He must be really good if he has to wake up this early. It sounded intense.

"It's okay! I'm okay!" he replied to Sonny before going back to whispering to himself, "These things happen." I heard him eventually sigh and straighten himself up, turning around to finally face me. A part of me found it extremely amusing that he talked to himself out loud but that part was too scared by the situation to come forward.

"I'm sorry," I practically whimpered when his eyes, now wide awake and open, made contact with mine. My hands had wrapped around my torso in my usual defensive pose.

"All good. Maybe I'll be lucky enough to get a concussion so I can crawl back to bed," a chuckle, "Can you tell me what in_God's _name are you doing, standing in the darkness at five am in the morning? Coz that's fucking creepy," he asked, looking around at my towel and the shower still running, lathering my back. I was about to be a smart ass and remark about how it was obvious that I was showering and that he was up this early for that exact same purpose too but it was too soon for me to create that kind of relationship. I had yet to warm up to him enough.

"I was—umm well trying to shower before it got too crowded in here," I told him, deciding to go with the truth because I was sure any other excuse I came up with would have sounded worse. I was hoping he wouldn't judge me too badly on my fear of being around other naked boys. Maybe he would find out and—no, it was impossible, irrational of me to think that.

"Oh," he simply said and I thought that he was going to go back to silently thinking of explanations before he surprised me and started talking again, "I think it's actually better later in the morning. Sonny and I shower around this time coz we have hockey. Most days Cato and Adri are up too because they will have Tennis as soon as the season starts so it gets pretty busy here. The rest of them usually shower in the evening right when they come back from their sport's practice before sit-down."

I was speechless because that had been the longest he had ever talked to me and this time he had actually said something helpful. I gawked at him, trying to come up with a way to express my appreciation but didn't find anything that wasn't too 'gay'. I knew I had to watch out for that ever since I heard him blurt that statement to Cato.

Now he was staring at me with a weird face because I wasn't saying anything back. I saw his eyes move to his sponge and he picked it up, pouring soap on it before looking at me again one last time and I jumped on the occasion. This would be one of those rare times where he was alone, without his group to judge our interactions.

"Are you a forward?" I blurted the first thing that came to my mind. His eyes widened for a few seconds and I thought I had made a mistake but then he grinned at me, staring in awe.

"Yeah, man. Centre forward. How did—you watch hockey?" he asked and he seemed so excited about the topic that I felt proud of myself for having done something right. I couldn't disappoint him now. I wanted him to be more taken aback by my knowledge.

"Yeah, I mean the Kings are in the lead right now—" I started and I thanked god that the LA national team was doing so well. It gave me some background. I had actually been to one of their games. I would not tell him that yet though. I had to save some icebreakers for later times.

"3-1. Yes. They're good. They might win it all. You know a lot about this," he remarked and I had to high-five myself mentally because somehow I had gotten this hockey pro to believe that I was truly interested in a sport that I still didn't quite understand. I knew I had to shift the conversation before he discovered that.

"Thanks. Um, do you know perhaps when soccer starts—I play soccer," I rambled and I was proud of myself yet again because that didn't sound as bad as I thought it would. He nodded at me and now he was back to the conversation not fidgeting to leave it like before.

"Oh, cool. Varsity?" he asked and he actually seemed interested in my response. He had started washing himself and I was begging my eyes to not betray me and slide down his body. I was begging them. He was actually pretty pleasant in the morning because his energy hadn't spiked up yet and his 'bro-s' weren't there for him to feed off.

"Yeah, I mean, I used to at my old school. I'm trying out here…" I started saying, not knowing how finish that phrase so I just looked around the bathroom awkwardly. I was losing my courage with every passing second. I felt like I had extinguished my quota of risky interactions for the day.

"You'll get in. Our soccer team sucks balls—shit is that offensive?" he mumbled, looking at me in worry for a second and I had to laugh because he made such funny faces and he had been the one to be concerned at _my_ reaction. I am sure he was completely oblivious to how nervous I was just being a few feet away from his naked form but he had been nice enough to ease my concerns even if it was with a jab at the sport that I had spent all my life on.

He smiled at me lightly before going back to his shower and this time I went back to facing the wall, not worried that the silence was awkward or that my body wasn't as good as his. The tension had eased off and I thought maybe I could do this shower thing. If I could wake up specifically on time to encounter him here alone then that would be bearable. From my calculations, Sonny had showered earlier and Cato would be waking up later because Tennis practice didn't go as long as hockey. I felt like a stalker, trying to figure this out, so I had to stop myself but I was sure my nerdy brain would do the math subconsciously.

"Marvel, move, princess. It's five forty-five. We need to get dressed," Sonny mentioned and I heard Marvel grumble in agreement before turning off the shower and ruffling his hair in the towel he had brought. I allowed my eyes to skim him for a moment because I was certain he couldn't see. When I saw him drape said towel on his shoulders, I turned back around and bit my lip to restrain myself from saying anything. I didn't want to be the first one to say bye if he wasn't going to. I didn't know at what point of our relationship that came.

He inched to the cubbies, placing the materials back before looking at me as his hand found the door handle, and murmuring,

"Catch you later, Peeta,"

I was grinning so hard that I had to control myself before I turned around to face him. The back of my mind called me hypocritical because just last night I had berated the others who looked up to him through twinkling eyes and wide smiles. I didn't want to be one of them.

"Yeah, sure," I mumbled, shrugging one of my shoulders. I didn't want to sound too over-enthusiastic. He was used to being chased around; he didn't need more of that. I had to be special if I wanted a place in his group, which I tried to convince myself I didn't. All I wanted to do was have them realize how it was to want something and get rejected. That was what they deserved after all.

The door closed again and I heard the other one open, as they started arguing and shuffling around with their clothes. I definitely would go see him play at some point.

I finished my shower, standing there, drying my hair in the mirror until I heard them rambunctiously drag their gear out of the room and move down the hallway. I then moved to my room where I started unpacking and trying to time everyone's schedules by hearing their doors slam shut and the symphony of alarms go off.

* * *

I was sitting on my bed, crossed-legged and holding my laptop on my lap, chatting with friends from back home. I liked keeping up with life over there. I felt like I was still part of it.

The room was organized and spotless because I had spent the rest of the day locked up in there, compulsively arranging everything. I hadn't packed too much because my parents had assumed I would buy new clothes here. They didn't place a limit on my credit card. That was probably the only thing they did for me; they bought my love.

Thresh was sitting on his desk, typing on his laptop and simultaneously writing things down on a piece of paper. I didn't know what he was doing but I didn't care to ask him. Haymitch had been right; he was very reserved. He had not spoken to me since our introduction and I wasn't complaining. I wanted to ask him more about his life and the dorm but I felt as if it wasn't the right time. He had just come back and was probably tired. I was a little intimidated by him.

When he had first seen me, he had grunted and shrugged, introducing himself without even shaking my outstretched, awkward hand. I had startled, seeing him enter, because I was so used to being on my own, listening to my iPod and folding clothes into drawers. We had spent the rest of the time ignoring each other and doing our own thing. He had retreated to his side of the room where he had dumped his luggage on the floor and sat himself on his desk. I would come to realize that was his main base of business.

Outside of the room, I heard the sound of footsteps, running towards our direction and I looked up a second before the knock was heard. I hesitated to answer as if asking for permission from Thresh. It felt as if this was his room still and I was merely a guest, interfering with his life. He grumbled a 'come in' without turning around to find out whom the presence was.

The door opened swiftly to reveal a grinning Cato and I bit my lip, looking down, trying to avoid eye contact before looking up again involuntarily. His eyes moved to find mine and he winked at me, mouthing 'what's up' before returning his attention to Thresh, who had yet to acknowledge his presence. From the tension in his shoulders, I knew he knew though. I had frozen up after the wink and my face had tainted in pink because I really had not expected it. It made me feel on the spot. He seemed overly happy for his usual arrogant self. He looked high and the only reason I knew that was because I could smell it on him, the same pungent smell that intoxicated the bathrooms and alleys of my old school.

"Thresh-baby, let me love you," He exclaimed, placing his hands on his waist and waiting for Thresh to turn around. The statement appalled me because I knew that he was trying to purposely get Thresh angry and I couldn't understand why. Cato was intimidating because he had a big personality and an even bigger ego but Thresh seemed deathly. I did not even want him to look my way. I would soon find out that the way to get Thresh to be lethal was to actually be lovey-dovey with him. It was profusely ironic.

"What the fuck do you want, Niki?" I heard Thresh mutter, turning around to face the gaping blonde with a smirk. I knew I needed to keep my head down and pretend I wasn't in the room but that got my attention and I looked up to see Cato fuming, looking back and forth from me to Thresh and I wanted to shrug to show him I was confused, not a threat. I knew something had happened though because the entire aura of the room had turned as red as blood.

"For you to _not _reveal my fuckin' identity, shit-face! Let's not start this. It's too early," Cato warned through grit teeth and I saw Thresh approach him, towering in his intimidating form. Whenever he moved it reminded me of the Greek myth of Cronus; Thresh was a titan in my mind. What had he called the blonde? I doubt Cato didn't want to start anything because he definitely came in with a purpose and that was to get Thresh irritated.

Don't get in the kitchen if you can't handle the heat...

"Oops," Thresh quipped, keeping his smirk, his entire body tensing. I had seen these signals before. They were preparing to fight and it was making me weary.

A part of me wanted to tell Cato that he aided in the revelation by confirming it but somehow I didn't think it was the time. I thought now was the time to completely pretend I wanted to take a walk because I should not have been there while they glared each other down. I didn't know what 'this' was but I didn't want it to start either.

"Blondie, leave," I heard Cato murmur and I looked up in surprise to find him looking at me with a fake smile on his face. His tone was short and rude. It made me not want to do what he said. He would not be ordering me around in my own room. At the same time, he was offering me an out and, looking at his clear gaze, I started moving from my position, setting the laptop aside as if hypnotized by his presence.

"Don't listen to him, kid. Stay, get comfortable, grab some popcorn," Thresh turned around to tell me and I gulped, looking back and forth between his victorious face and Cato's furious one, his lips snarled and his eyes enraged. I was repeating to myself: 'don't make me part of this'.

"Afraid I might murder you, destroy the evidence," Cato slurred, smiling in hatred and crossing his arms on his chest. I didn't know what he came here for but if I were he I would just leave, avoid the upcoming confrontation. But of course, it wasn't me. It was Cato, the arrogant, self-absorbed dick who had to prove himself the alpha male.

"As if. I just want somebody for once to see you for what you really are: a scared little boy. I'm done tolerating you as you strut around like a peacock with all your ugly ducklings behind you," Thresh growled in his raspy voice and I hid my face, letting my bangs fall in my eyes because I wanted to smile. I liked seeing Cato be put to his place, get knocked down a couple of notches.

"Green doesn't suit you, Thresh. It doesn't go well with your complexion," Cato retorted, smiling at him innocently, and I stiffened at the racial connotations. I couldn't believe he had gone that low. I was speechless and it showed because my eyes could not be forced back to my computer. I knew this was getting serious and by how hard Thresh was clenching his teeth and his fist simultaneously, I was certain he would go for an even lower blow. I just didn't expect it to be what it was.

"Where's the other one? I'm surprised you don't have him on his knees yet, that little whore of yours," Thresh muttered, imitating a vulgar blowjob motion and my jaw fell on the ground in horror. I didn't need to hear a name to know he was talking about Marvel and Cato's reaction said it all because he was almost as taken aback as I. I knew then that he had been too open. He had gotten irritated and Thresh had won this round. We would not be leaving the topic anytime soon.

I just wanted to leave the room. I felt nauseous and inside I was panicking because if I thought Marvel was homophobic I had yet to meet my roommate, Thresh.

"Say that to his face—I dare you, you fucking coward—you pussy!" Cato screamed and he was riled up; he was shaking in fury now. The room had gotten smaller and hotter and my fingers were trembling on top the keyboard. My throat was dry. I moved, trying to crawl off the bed because it was time for me to leave. I wasn't supposed to be hearing this. As soon as I reached the edge, trying to get up, Thresh pushed me back down roughly and I stumbled on the bed again, gaping in shock. I might have whimpered.

"Sit!" he growled and now I was scared. I looked at Cato in pleading, trying to find salvation in the least likely person. I knew he didn't want me here. I should have left when he told me to—I should have listened.

"Don't touch him, you savage. He has nothing to do with this," Cato grunted and a part of me fluttered in happiness that he stood up for me though it wasn't enough to completely remove me from this toxic situation.

"You know why he gets this mad, kid? Coz he's a faggot and he hasn't gotten any because little Marvie goes around sucking cocks left and right but none of them are his," Thresh muttered to me, completely ignoring Cato and placing a hand on my shoulder. I tried to stop myself from cringing away from his touch. I didn't want him to be mad. I didn't want to be a player in this game. I just wanted to leave, go home, never get to see these crazies again.

I felt a flicker of jealousy in the midst of the fear and alienation. Was Thresh's assumption the truth? Was the reason he let Marvel lie on his stomach and know all his secrets because he covertly wanted the other? Was there anything more than the superficial friendship going on below the layers? I felt stupid because I found out I didn't want any of them like that. I just wanted them not to be together because it reminded me of how unwanted and unhappy I was, closeted to the point of Narnia. I liked them to pay attention to me and that was utterly pathetic.

"You're moronic. And demented. And insane. He's like my brother, you sick fuck. You are just bitter because you want him and I will never let you have him. So go fuck yourself on a dildo, you cunt," Cato growled back, practically snarling and Thresh pushed away from me to face him again. He was enraged and I assumed it was because his homophobia was repulsed at the idea of being attracted to another guy.

They were so close to each other now and I could feel the air in the room grow thick and suffocating. Cato raised his shaking fist and I crawled back on the bed all the way to the wall, pulling my knees to my chest because I didn't want to see blood. I didn't want this to get physical.

"Are you going to hit me, cocksucker? Like you hit him all the time. Careful now, we both know, unlike your little slut, I will tell on you the first chance I get," Thresh muttered, smirking sadistically and I saw something in the blonde's eyes completely break.

He was hurt and he was cornered. I had not expected Thresh to be able to push him back but I didn't know that Cato made mistakes too and somehow Thresh always got a hold of them. A part of me, very small, felt satisfaction, seeing him at a loss because all I could think was 'oh, how hard the mighty had fallen'.

The majority of me felt guilty at even having witnessed this. I felt sorry for him. I wanted to go up to him and say something to get him back to his arrogant self. Somehow that image was shattered from my mind and now I could see many different parts of him. In that moment of vulnerability, he became real to me.

"The moment you touch me, you will lose your dorm monitor position and your offer of admission," Thresh continued and I just wanted him to shut up and stop rubbing more salt in the wound. I could see the blonde had admitted defeat for now but I knew it wouldn't be forever because he had been publicly humiliated.

"If I go down, you're coming with me and I'll make sure you get sentenced," Cato threatened and Thresh seemed to pause for a second. I knew he had calmed down because he wasn't going for the throat anymore and he had turned his back, placing his hands on the desk. It was strange because even Thresh at that stage of anger felt like he had crossed the line and I was suddenly interested to hear the story. What had Cato actually done to Marvel that was this bad?

"You're as fucked up as I am. Don't use those empty threats on me, Cato. We both know they don't work," Thresh murmured and his tone sounded exhausted and regretful. I had been the only one who missed the turning point of this conversation.

"Because your daddy is like my daddy? Get a grip, Thresh and stop doing whatever you're on right now, you bastard," Cato snapped back but it was weak and he clearly didn't want to start another round.

I heard Thresh chuckle, catching me off-guard before he rummaged through one of his drawers and pulled out a small transparent baggie. I couldn't quite tell what was inside. He turned around and offered it to the blonde who took it in his hand and hid it the back pocket of his jeans. I was stretching as casually as possible to see the contents and only after the blonde offered him a couple of bills, I realized it was grass and they were making an exchange. My roommate also happened to be a dealer. That was probably the reason everyone awaited his return with such anticipation and that was probably why Cato assumed he was under the influence.

"Nah, keep it. Collateral damage an' all," Thresh shrugged, pushing the bills back and Cato nodded his appreciation, still unable to really warm up to him. I could imagine why. He had ended up injured from their confrontation. I wondered if they had this exchange often and if my presence was the only thing that escalated it this far.

I was still on the bed, my back flat against the wall when I felt Cato lean on it slightly, throwing off my balance. I wondered why he was still there. Why hadn't he left yet? Thresh moved to pick another thing from his dresser and propped the window open. I felt the cold breeze of fall in Massachusetts envelop me and I shuddered lightly, not commenting because I didn't feel like I had the right to change his actions.

When he turned back around, he had a cigarette in his mouth and he offered another on to Cato who grabbed it without saying anything back. I went rigid at the sight, trying to think of something to say in protest. If there was anything I could remember from last night, it was that this was against the rules and even my being here, my being 'in the presence', could get me in trouble. My breath came in short. I couldn't confront them both after I had just experienced but I wanted it to stop.

They lit they cigarettes completely oblivious to my condition and started smoking freely as if we weren't in a dorm, living next to faculty members and under smoke detectors.

"Is Marvel smoking?" Thresh asked, perching himself on his desk and facing Cato who had leaned back on my bed. He had not even asked for my permission and now he was laying on my bed sheets and smoking on them, letting the ashes fall. I had just washed these sheets. The smell would never leave.

"Not right now. He has hockey so they test him. Doesn't want to risk much," Cato mumbled back and Thresh nodded as they continued smoking.

I was traumatized. Why did Haymitch hate me? At this point anything was better than this roommate. Could I ask for a switch? Who would I even—Marvel. That would be my top choice. Even with the rough mornings and the waking up at five and the fact that Cato would be in my room constantly, sitting on my bed with the clothes he wears outside, I would still want to room with him above anyone.

I looked up from my feet to the blonde and he was staring at me. Once he saw the look on my face, I thought he had figured it out: my hatred for drugs, but he just offered me his cigarette and I stared at it in shock.

"Oh, sorry, man. Thresh here is a cheap fuck. You wanna bum mine?" He asked me, looking up with his baby-blues and holding the lit cig between his fingers, right in front of my face. I did not move to grasp it nor did I make an attempt to push it away too lost for words and fascinated by the smoldering top and the wispy smoke.

"Are you one of those lazy bastards who wants people to feed it to him?" He asked amused and I was pretty sure he couldn't understand how people could reject smoking. Truth to be told, I didn't even know to properly hold a cigarette. But somehow I found myself wanting to please him. I could sense that pressure to conform.

"That is Marvel, in a nutshell," Thresh grunted, rolling his eyes and taking puffs from his one. This caused Cato to chuckle and I was completely floored by their relationship. Only a second ago, he was calling Marvel all sorts of names and now they were acting like friends as if nothing had ever happened. Fuck! Why was it always like that?

"That is accurate. Where is that, mofo?" Cato asked, still trying to get me to smoke that idiotic cancer-stick. I shook my head to let him know that I wasn't going to want it anytime soon. The flame had burned a big part of the stick and now all the ashes dropped on the covers, staining it. I withheld a sigh.

He gave me a weird face before screaming out loud for the Japanese boy that roomed with Marvel. They screeched like banshees and I assumed that was because they had been trained to live in this setting where if you wanted someone, all you had to do is make your voice heard from the walls.

Why were there more people coming into my room? I should have enjoyed my single yesterday while I had it. Why did I think that my room was not going to be the common space for the group? I hated this. All I wanted was sleep.

I heard Sonny walk up to our door and prop it open without even knocking. Great, simply fabulous. He looked around the room once before extending his hand and going straight for Cato's cigarette, which got passed along from the blonde's mouth to the Asian's one.

"Where's Marvel?" Cato asked as he retreated the stolen cigarette back and I was surprised at how it hadn't finished yet. I was desperately waiting for it to with an accelerated heart and shallow breaths.

"Dinner. His father is in town and treating the twins to decent food," Sonny muttered, sitting himself on the floor as if he had been invited. I knew they weren't going to leave anytime soon. I would come to discover these random rendezvous happened often as a boarder.

"He'll be in a bad mood when he comes back," Thresh mumbled and Sonny nodded, shrugging his shoulders. If there was anything I knew for certain was that the twins disliked each other. I had yet to discover why.

Cato looked back at me with his icy blues and this time I maintained the eye contact because I didn't want to look scared. My body position was already defensive enough. He dragged himself back so we were sitting side by side and I stiffened, gulping, placing my chin on my knees and looking at the white wall straight ahead to avoid glancing at him. He was too close and I was getting fidgety. My palms had started to sweat.

"You sure you don't want to? Don't be shy, blondie," He muttered to me, nudging me awake, and I bit my lip. He knew I had never smoked. He had done this so many times; he could catch on to the signs. That was precisely why he was insisting. It probably gave him the same satisfaction as popping a cherry. I was smart enough to see that he was persuading me using the nicknames and the smiles but I wasn't smart enough to stop myself from being affected.

A part of me felt like I had to do it and no matter how stupid and idiotic and irrational that part was being I was still listening to it. Because he was giving me attention, because it felt like I might become part of the group, because everyone was doing it.

I turned sideways too face him, still laying my head on my hands, which were propped on my knees. His eyes were looking at me expectantly and his lips were pursed in amusement. I knew my resistance was wavering as I told myself just once.

One sacrifice if it was going to eventually better my life. I had to do it. I raised my head off my knees and he got the cue 'feeding it' to me like he said he did with Marvel and for a second I felt as if I had really moved a step forward. As his fingers reached my lips, I took the end of the stick in my mouth and inhaled the bitter and sharp smoke. It inflamed my lungs and I felt the need to cough. All too soon I thought I couldn't breathe before I remembered to exhale and the poison left my body.

My eyes had started to water and I tried to convince myself that it was only from the foul odor of the substance but I knew it was more than that. I felt like my breakdown was due at any point now and I couldn't let myself believe that I had fallen so low. I had gone against my morals. He had played me like a game. It had only taken a pair of pretty blue eyes and light blonde hair to get me to forget everything I was. I despised my weakness.

I looked at the blonde through my wet eyes and he cocked his head sideways in confusion. I thought he would know, he would understand, but all he did was shrug, placing the object of my inner turmoil back between his deceiving lips.

"I don't like it much either," he murmured, shrugging, and I found it hard to believe because his eyes lit up in bliss and the battle behind them faded away whenever he inhaled the substance.

He went back to joking with the other two and I felt used. I felt as if I had given up a principle from my very core to get his attention and indulge him. He hadn't even looked twice, hadn't even acknowledged my efforts. It had all been useless and I felt shittier than ever.

I slid up from the bed and dragged myself out of the room, knowing I had to escape that space but not knowing where to go because that used to be my only sanctuary. I wasn't welcome anywhere else. I stood there dumbly behind the door, in the middle of two worlds, two decisions: to go back in and laugh forcibly through their jokes or to walk away and try to find another support group. I was never really good at branching out in the first place.

My hand brushed away my bangs from my teary eyes and I tried to swiftly wipe them with my sleeve, the one I had been clutching all evening, desperately hanging on to it like a lifeline. I thought about calling Gale. I really did need to hear his voice but I couldn't let them know about him. I wanted it to be private. They soiled everything.

The front door slammed shut and immediately the floor was filled with screams of two different kinds. One I recognized as Marvel and for a second my heart fluttered because he hadn't gone into the room yet and if I stopped him then maybe he would—that was stupid. The idea was stupid. He was as much of a druggie than they were. I worried my bottom lip, trying to lean away from the doorframe to stare at the commotion. Maybe he would see me and acknowledge me again. Maybe that was all I needed.

"Don't you think you are being a little unreasonable?" it was a female voice who asked, her accent much heavier than Marvel's. It stopped me in my tracks, halting my thoughts and cringing back flush against the door.

"He's back," I heard Sonny mutter from my position, my hair against the wooden surface.

"He's angry," Cato added and I had to sarcastically commend his deductive skills.

"Who's going to tame him today?" Thresh chuckled, amused while the other two scoffed at him, obviously standing up for their friend.

"Shut up. He's not gonna do anything. He's not at that stage," Cato muttered and I wondered about what stage they meant. Back in the room the two were still arguing, the screams escalating.

"Just how about this? You live your life and I'll live mine," Marvel was screaming and I had never seen him that angry—I had never thought he had the capability to get that irritated. I wondered if Glimmer looked like him. With that thought in mind, I inched closer until I was right next to the entrance of the hallway, leaning side-ways and observing them through wide eyes.

Glimmer was gorgeous with blonde hair and big, full lips. They were very much alike though you couldn't tell immediately with his hair being so dark. Same height, same complexion, same emerald shaded eyes.

"Don't blame me because you are incompetent, you fool," the girl snapped, crossing her arms. She smirked and that was the wrong thing to do because it infuriated her twin brother to no end.

"Po'shyol 'na hui, suka!"

I startled at the change in language and suddenly there was chaos. They were both throwing words at each other; nothing was understandable. Their hand motions had become hysteric and their screaming so loud that I couldn't understand how they could apprehend each other, talking over each other's sentences. If I had thought Marvel was angelic, I would definitely take that back now because his eyes were dulled dark and his eyebrows so furrowed and his lips snarled. He looked wild—the girl even more so. Her beauty completely disappeared when she was yelling.

I had not realized that I had shed a few tears until a droplet fell on my hand. I was ashamed of myself. I felt like a child. I was so much older than all the new freshman and here I was crying like a baby. It was just the madness that bothered me. I could not handle the fighting. It was too much, too reminiscent of home. But at least back in LA I had a place to hide, my room, and I had a place to safely escape, to cry my eyes out, Gale's room. Here I had nothing. I was literally trapped with nowhere to go. I wasn't alone even when I had to take a fucking dump.

I looked up to see Glimmer was crying too, sobbing through her argument and I felt bad. How could he do that to his sister? His twin? Didn't he feel her pain? Even I felt her pain, standing a distance away without knowing her at all. I looked back to see if anybody was going to come from the room to stop the fight but nobody seemed to want to move. I knew they were all listening in. It was way too lurid to be held back by flimsy doors.

I heard the smack of skin and I turned around in time to see Marvel palm his flaming cheek. They had both fallen in silence and all you could hear was Glimmer's sniffling and sobbing. She glared at him one more time before running up the stairs. I held my breath until I heard the door slam and her footsteps disappear. Marvel remained motionless and I wanted to go up to him, say something to comfort him but I couldn't because I didn't know anything. I was stupid when it came to this. It was clear he was fighting hard to restrain himself, to make sure he didn't lose control.

I could have helped him. I had started inching forward about to voice his name.

The door to my room opened and all the sounds flooded outside as I heard Cato and Sonny run by me, knocking me into the wall. I grunted but none of them turned back to apologize. They appeared by his side, Cato throwing an arm around him and pulling him to his chest while Sonny ruffled his hair and whispered in his ear. I could see Marvel was still upset because his gaze had never left the floor even when the blonde was by his side, moving his curly, dark bangs from his eyes.

I could have done that.

But I didn't because I would never have the guts, because he already had his friend group, because Cato said it himself: he would never let anyone get close to Marvel. They were selfish and I wasn't so I couldn't fight for what I wanted the most while they fought for everything, even things that they did not need.

I couldn't hear what Sonny was telling him because he was whispering lightly, massaging the other boy's hair. Cato on the other hand was speaking in Russian and that language I knew I would be conditioned to hate. It would come to represent secrecy, trouble, turmoil. Against my will, I forced my eyes away from the others and walked back to my room where I knew Thresh would be the only one waiting.

I opened the door and as usual he didn't even turn around to look at me. He was on his phone now, typing furiously with one hand while chewing the end of a pencil that his other one was holding. He had been scribbling notes again. He was so strange.

I reached for my phone, holding it with shaky hands before turning to face Thresh's back again.

"Could I—would you mind if I made a call?" I asked, knowing that no matter what his answer was I would not make it because I wouldn't be able to hear his voice without crying and I wouldn't be crying in front of Thresh.

"Sure. I'm going to go out for a while. Do me a favor and make sure you check in with Haymitch at ten," he mumbled, standing up and filling his jacket-pockets with more baggies, separated and prepared. I gulped at what he was about to do but I didn't say anything until he disappeared behind the door. He would be back at ten because that was curfew and I had two hours until then to shatter my walls and built them back up stronger and higher.

I dialed Gale and he picked up after a couple of rings, his voice hazy.

"Peeta?" He asked and I hiccupped because the tears had already come and I couldn't even get myself to voice anything.

"Shit, buddy, what's up? What's wrong, boo?" he asked, worried and I could hear him shuffling out of bed. He took so many naps.

"I hate it here," I mumbled, my voice wet and I tried to disguise the fact that I was bawling because it was just going to make matters worse.

"Why? What's the matter? Are they being mean to you?" he kept shooting the questions faster and I didn't know how to explain to him what I was feeling.

I didn't know how to tell him that I was part of the most destructive group of people I had seen. And how I couldn't shower my insecurities away because I was scared they would find out I was gay and then Thresh would kill me or worse hurt me like Cato apparently hurts Marvel, supposedly his 'brother', how Marvel, the brother, harms his twin sister without thinking twice, how his friends knew he was going to go after her yet they sat and smoked only showing up after he was broken. How they fought, they threw insults without thinking twice, burned bridges, and devastated each other. I couldn't tell him that I was alone and nobody was by my side—that Haymitch was apparently 'in love' with Marvel and clearly incapable of controlling this dorm.

"Nobody wants me here. I don't belong," I whispered because it was true; I didn't belong but I never wanted too. I just wanted to go back to the group of friends I never appreciated, to the family that at least let me hide, have the darkness as my friend.

"Peeta, don't say that, please. Have you spoken to your parents?" he kept repeating, his voice growing more concerned. He didn't understand! Why didn't he understand? Why couldn't he just be here?

"I hate them," I snapped back. I hated my parents! I hated my dorm mates!

"No, no. Don't say that. You just need some time, that's all. Everything will get better, I promise," he comforted and I couldn't believe him as much as I wanted to. I had thought that yesterday when I was crawled up in my bed, isolated from the chatter and cheering. The next day had been worse and now I was scared about what to expect tomorrow.

"You haven't met them! They are—ugh—they are the fucking devil in form of many gorgeous looking teens," I blurted, chuckling at my own joke while Gale laughed out loud on the other side. He always managed to cheer me up even when it was just me doing the talking. He was my safety net. I used my sleeve to wipe my nose and face, not longer feeling the need to release tension that way.

"I know exactly what they are, smarty-pants. Everyone knows," He murmured amused and I mumbled a 'huh' because I was confused. I think he was missing the point. He couldn't possibly know.

"No, they don't. What?" I asked, caught off-guard and he chuckled.

"They are stuck up brats who have been born and raised treated like they are royalty until they were conditioned to believe it. They are spoiled and impulsive and demanding. But what do you expect, silly? They are mafia children, that's the life they've been taught to live," Gale explained to me patiently and with every adjective he got precisely right my heart skipped a beat until I thought it had completely stopped pounding.

"How—how did you know?" I whispered, the weight of reality settling into my mind because until now I had doubts but they were surreal, unproven. How had he managed to get that information? Was it commonplace? Had he used the term 'mafia children' as if it already had a prescribed definition?

"Shit, you're kidding, right? Don't you research your school a little? That's how Esurio Ludus was even founded in the first place. They needed a safe zone where these children could get the highest education without being in harm's way and influenced by unattractive people. The mafia leaders have been financing the institution for decades. They sit on the board and they decide on who gets to teach—everything basically. Generations of alumni that the school produces go on to be what that these days call 'illegal businessmen'. The only reason that others get to attend is because they want money and the social benefits of connections—that shit. They go through the applications like fiends, searching for specific criteria," Gale gave me all the information I had been looking for and there were no more words in my vocabulary because I needed time for this to settle into my consciousness.

"Who's in it currently?" I rasped out through the shock because I needed something concrete to grasp. I needed something to drive the point home. This couldn't be basic knowledge.

"They don't publicly release too many names but definitely one of the biggest groups of all time. Lots of Russians—the Bratva has dominated the school since forever. The Italians are fairly new though. Usually, very few of the Cosa Nostra trust The Academy enough to send off their children. Besides they have had a bloody history since the beginning. You really didn't know this?" Gale asked and he was worried again. His high-pitched voice told me he was guilty. He felt like he had both betrayed my parents and hurt me: a double edge sword.

"Did my parent's know?" I asked, wondering out loud because I felt cheated, tricked into something that I didn't want to do. I had no say! I would have never come. This was insane. How could my parents ever let me attend? Did they want me to become some mafia's puppet?

"I'm sorry, Peeta," I heard Gale mummer softly and I hung up the phone, slamming it on the bed and dropping back on my pillow. When I had thought that the day could not get any worse…

How could they?


	3. One Card Short of a Deck

**Chapter 2: One Card Short of a Deck**

_Peeta's POV (Sunday)_

I woke up the next day feeling the soreness in my body that told me I had not slept well. I remembered waking up every so often and looking at my alarm clock blaring early times in the morning. I had sensed Thresh come in the room but not opened my eyes because at that point I had already punished myself by hiding under the sheets and wallowing in self-pity. Gale had kept calling back, the missed calls adding up, never answered as I set the phone on silent. He left messages, apologizing and begging for me to pick up because the longer I did not respond the more worried he got. I didn't know what to say to him. I wasn't mad because I couldn't really be mad at Gale. He was too sweet. I was annoyed at my lack of control, at being the only one who didn't know about this plot. I felt like a pawn. I had thought I had been smart, figuring out the mafia connections; I had been proud at myself. Finding out it was common knowledge was devastating. It confirmed to me that I was indeed out of a circle. I was the fool playing the game without knowing the rules.

I had gone to check in with Haymitch like Thresh had asked. It was mandatory that we physically presented ourselves to the person on duty at curfew so they knew we were inside the dorm. I heard the doors were alarmed so you couldn't leave after curfew until six am the following day. I thought it was very controlling but then every rule must exist because some body at some point had fucked up. It wasn't hard to think of occasions that students must have snuck out to do all sorts of activities that may have been illegal for their age or just plain illegal. The last thing the school wanted was to get sued though with all the mafia in charge I doubt it would make a difference in their prestige.

Haymitch's apartment was the usual bachelor pad. He lived on his own; he didn't even own a pet. I wondered if he ever brought a girl home in the dorm. Was that even appropriate? Imagine waking up, listening to moaning—I would never be able to look at him in the eye again. I was fairly certain he did bring people over though maybe one night stands. He looked young; he must have been sexually active.

The house had a hallway attached to the dorm that lead into the main common room. Usually that's where the duty people would be situated the days they didn't want you entering their private homes. The girl over scenario probably. The living room was decorated with a huge, plasma TV and a pair of stereo boxers. There were pictures on the walls but very few. In some I could spot a girl, young and good-looking. In others, I guessed it was his parents or previous students, advisees. We were supposed to have an advisor in the dorm to look out for us and help us through the 'transition' process. Seeing that I had yet to be contacted by mine, I doubt he would be my lifeline.

I had entered the hallway, awkwardly trying to see if I was allowed to proceed any further into his personal territory. I had called out and he had replied that he was in the common space and I should 'go ahead and come in'. So I had gingerly tread on the carpeted floor and entered the big room, my hands immediately going to grasp the edge of my t-shirt. I felt underdressed.

He had been lounging on the couch in an old t-shirt and sweat pants. I had been appalled at how casual he was dressed. I couldn't get over the view that teachers should only be around students formally clothed and spiffed up. I would come to notice that Haymitch would not fill the role of a teacher in my time here. He was more of a mentor, an insanely bias, quite unhelpful, very sarcastic, addicted to alcohol mentor.

Marvel had been sitting on the couch next to him, legs pulled to his chest, still looking as lost and angry as before. I had assumed the other two had not succeeded in cheering him up so it had fallen on Haymitch to fix the situation. I wondered if Marvel had willingly approached the older man or if he had been forced to talk about it to ensure that the built up tension would not result in any unnecessary explosions. I couldn't tell if he wanted to be there and I couldn't tell if I had interrupted their conversation.

I frantically wanted to know what the fight had been about if it affected him so much. I wondered for a second, delusional in anger and desperation, if he would trust me with the information. I wanted to be the one to get him back to his usual self because I had seen his roommate, Sonny and his best friend, Cato fail to even get him to look their way. Haymitch didn't seem like he was making any progress with the boy burrowing himself in the oversized fluffy couch, still in his going-out clothes. I was temporarily eager at the challenge because I stupidly thought I was what he needed. It was idiotic of me; he had everyone. I had no one. He could get the entire dorm to pay attention to him, want to make him smile that addicting smile he had. I was invisible. I couldn't even get my roommate to acknowledge my existence.

When I stepped in the room, he had not even glanced in my direction, gaze still favoring the floor. I had been disappointed then. I might have even pouted a little bit, standing there having forgotten the purpose of my trip. Haymitch had asked if I needed anything and I had stumbled over my words asking him about the 'checking in' business. It had taken him a while to understand me between the nervous 'um'-s and the frequent pauses but he had eventually jumped awake and rushed to get his 'names grid', leaving Marvel and I alone.

I had gulped, swaying nervously on my feet. I had not known what to do with myself, frustrated that I had such big ideas and such small guts. I could think of a solution but I couldn't put it in action. I was just words, flimsy thoughts that never went past the first stage of creation. Sometimes I wish I were like Cato who seemed to be doing just the opposite, who could jump into the circle without knowing why he did it. I wish I were like Cato who didn't need to think before he went to hug Marvel, pull him close. Obviously, someone like Cato was what Marvel needed. I wasn't anything note-worthy. It would disappoint my selfish parents to know that the mafia would never take notice of me. I wasn't special. My father's wealth was probably the only factor that got me in. And here I had been thinking that I was one in a million, that I was one of the few exclusive people that they choose out of thousands that applied. That entire train of thought was depressing. I wasn't doing a good job at distracting myself.

But then he had looked up at me with his green eyes. For a flicker of a second, he had glanced at me and he had not smiled because his mouth was hidden in his hands but he had noticed I was there. Our eyes made contact and he was the one to look away first this time, which motivated my legs to move forward and kneel in front of him on the floor so that I made eye contact with him again where he was sitting on the couch. My hands involuntarily moved to rest on his naked feet and he furrowed his eyebrows in wonder, wriggling his toes. He was too adorable for his own good.

I could see he had been surprised at my boldness but it was too late to go back. It was like the all-or-nothing principle. The message to my nerves had already been sent and my body was in auto-mode because no matter how hard my heart was hammering against my chest and how dry my throat had become, I couldn't move away from his penetrating stare. He had that look of childlike curiosity enveloping his eyes and I had thought I could satisfy it.

He had been waiting and I had doubted myself for a moment because I had moved without a plan and I was falling back with nothing to hold on to. It was as if he was expecting me to make it better and I didn't even know what 'it' was in the first place. Why had I even tried? I wasn't good enough.

It had been Gale who had saved me again because I had remembered what he did to me when I fell in that semi-comatose state after hearing my parents fight about divorce and custody over me and my half-brothers. Gale was always there, not saying anything, just pulling me close and planting one short, innocent kiss on the forehead. A part of me had told me that I couldn't, that he would react violently to such 'gay' actions, that I was overstepping the boundaries of personal space—I wasn't welcome. But then I had thought about how Gale was straight and how he didn't mind giving me the kiss that had come to represent everything would be fine, that he was there for me, protecting me.

Maybe the only reason I wanted to be there for Marvel in the first place was because throughout my whole life, I had wanted to be Gale, who was strong and smart, who had fought through life to get where he was today, who would never given up, never taken anything for granted. I had wanted to be Gale because maybe then people would respect me as much as I looked up to him. Right now, I felt like in my actions I was becoming Marvel's Gale and that was exhilarating.

Marvel had still been looking at me confused and I had been about to lean forward, take the leap of faith, when Haymitch had stepped in the room, announcing his return and making me snap my head violently to look at him, startled, officially breaking the connection between us two because I saw from my peripheral that his eyes reunited with the ground.

Haymitch had stared at me silently when he had noticed my position and I had flushed bright red, swiftly standing up and lowering my gaze in humiliation. I felt as if I had made a mistake and was ready to be scolded. It felt like one of those 'why are you talking to the prince; you are just a servant' situations. My own self-deprecation appalled me. I was my own worst judge.

Haymitch noticed that I wasn't about to make a move and eventually confirmed that I was 'in for the night' after which I hurried out of his apartment, without gazing back once. I had tried to contain my outburst until I reached my room, bumping into people who were climbing up the tight stairwell to check in. I had not apologized when they had snapped a 'watch it' or 'easy there don't kill us'. I had simply pushed ahead because the last thing I wanted was to shatter in pieces in front of their snarky remarks.

I had jumped into my bed and practically cried my eyes out in horror, head burying in my pillow until it was suffocating to breathe. I didn't want Thresh to catch me but at the same time I couldn't stop sobbing in fury and frustration, clutching my sheets until my knuckles hurt and my fingertips were raw.

I couldn't believe I had been that close to giving up everything, years of hiding so I could get a douchebag, who had been nothing but cold to me, to smile again. It was scary how he could get people to come to him, to crumble at his feet. It terrified me. I felt as if I had escaped the greatest human trap in history because this gorgeous-looking boy who had a Venus flytrap effect on every guy also happened to be relatively homophobic and extremely dangerous.

I blamed it on the fact that I missed Gale too fucking much in my subconscious and was trying to replace that lost bond with another one. That was why I wanted to reenact actions we took with others. Why hadn't Gale called me again? He had given up after five missed calls. I wondered if he had fallen asleep, not caring that I was not gonna get any of that tonight. I didn't want to be the first one to call back but at the same time I didn't want to feel completely alone. I doubted he would understand the Marvel situation because I didn't even understand.

It was like that, sniffling and glaring at the ceiling, that Thresh had found me, entering with his massive form. He had been counting money, his headphones on his head, blasting music that I could hear from all the way over to my bed. He had barely glanced at my red nose and swollen eyes before settling into his nest on the desk. I thought that had been the end of it and I couldn't get myself to care about his opinion but as I snuggled into my sheets, attempting to fall asleep so I could forget the humiliation and fear, I had heard him mutter:

"It's not that bad over here. We don't hurt people,"

He had seemed disappointed when he said it and I had practically wet the pillow in tears because I felt guilty. I had thought it was the nicest thing he had said to me that far and I wanted to turn around and tell him I appreciated it. I didn't know how he had found out I knew but I was ashamed at my reaction. I didn't know what to say because I didn't know whose fault it was. It wasn't mine; I didn't want to be mine. I was done blaming myself.

I had stayed silent that night and he had not probed again.

I had not been able to get over it because my thoughts had been too loud and so persistent that I kept waking up, pleading for my mind to shut up.

* * *

At the moment, lying wide-awake in bed, I was deciding if I wanted to get up and out of bed. It was Sunday, nearing ten in the morning and Thresh was long gone. I had sensed him leave and I had wondered briefly where he was headed but I was too lazy and my body was too paralyzed to care. He probably wouldn't tell me anyway and frankly seeing as it had something to do with illegal narcotics, I didn't even want to be aware. Ignorance was bliss when it dealt with a case that could possibly lead to a suspension. I wondered how he got out of room searches. I had been told that when the administration got a lead that made them suspicious about a dorm, they issued a surprise dorm search where the only action you could take, other than giving yourself in, was sit quietly while they went through your entire belongings from the middle of your books to the inside of every pair of shoe you owned. Nothing was left behind, including the dirty laundry. I wondered if Haymitch liked doing dorm searches—that seemed highly debatable.

As I stared around the room, thinking about possible hiding spots for small amounts of substances, I noticed he had attempted unpacking, throwing some clothes on the bed and around his bags, littering the area so the floor on his side was invisible. My mind was annoyed at the mess but I looked away distracting myself. I would have to either learn to live with his shit covering the walking space or clean up after him. Both options seemed unfavorable.

I knew the need for food would drag me out of bed sooner or later and I indulged my growling stomach by lazily throwing on a hoodie and a pair of faded, old jeans. I had yet to feel comfortable enough to pull out my sweatpants. They had a very homey feel and this wasn't home. This would never be home. I noticed on my way out that the dorm was still quiet, many of them being over-sleepers. The whiteboard next to the main entrance was covered in scribbles and as I read through them I realized they were reminders from Haymitch:

"New student orientation – 3 pm"

"Chapel – 6 pm (formal)"

"Dinner only in The Mains – 5:30 – 6:30"

"No Study Hall tonight – go out and enjoy the sun"

Looking at the notes further confused me and I made a mental note to ask for help though I was not sure whom my helper would be. Maybe I would finally read through that dense handbook that they sent us by mail. At this point that seemed the safest bet. My hunger headache was preventing me from worrying about the schedule too much so I glanced at it one more time before heading downstairs where Haymitch had mentioned the Capitol dining hall was.

The dining area was situated under the dorm and it was a simple, cafeteria-style setup with many round tables consisting of around eight seats. I heard the food was decent, lacking in taste because of the health concerns—more on the school not wanting to be sued.

Stumbling down the stairs while rubbing my eyes, I noticed that a couple of other boys where sitting in one of the tables. I only recognized Sonny, laughing and talking with the other four who did not seem to have half the energy the Japanese one possessed. He was a freak of nature when it came to waking up and here I was thinking my anxiety made me a light sleeper. I wondered if Sonny was an insomniac and how in the world Marvel and him managed to make it work being exact opposites.

There were a few girls too but they had decided to create that gender division, sitting in another table, chatting at a much lower volume. I had yet to meet any of the girls because for the past two days, I had been hermitting, hiding in my room scared of the outside world. I didn't feel comfortable walking around campus on my own because that would look weird. I didn't want to be labeled this quickly in the game. I knew it was inevitable with this being adolescence but I wanted to enjoy some freedom before that started.

Everyone was still in their pajamas and I yet again felt over dressed. I was getting used to that by now so it didn't bother me anymore. People in this school were fans of the soft, cotton sweatshirt material. They wore it all the time with a pride that public school kids would consider foolish. Many liked having school gear too, which I had only seen happen in colleges. In many different aspects, like the campus and the atmosphere, E.L. was like a college and much better than the universities kids from my old senior class were aiming for. I wondered where the seniors this year wanted to go. I would ask Thresh since he had mentioned Cato's letter of admission. It was the fall of senior year and he was already recruited? That was crazy. He must have been smarter than I thought. Either that or his 'daddy' had somebody at gunpoint. Only because he looked like he was the three usual B-s, blond, brutish, boastful, did I think the latter was more likely than the former. I couldn't speak like that though. My old friends thought it was awfully conceited.

Getting a bit of everything on a paper plate, I decided to sit in a completely new table, lowering my plate on the wooden surface and inching into a seat. I had tried to gaze at the floor in order to avoid the judgmental looks that people would give me. They would be calling me a loner or worst they would be pitying me and that last one I couldn't stand. I was choosing to isolate myself because it was too early and I didn't want to be sitting next to Sonny, pretending to be happy about leaving home because I wasn't—I was miserable. I needed my peace and quiet. If the scenario got worse I told myself I had an escape because I could easily take the food with me and eat in my room but I would suffer a little longer. Besides, I found this whole seating arrangement in high schools utterly pointless and ridiculous.

Scarping my plate while pathetically staring at the patterns in the wood, I had started to tune out the other voices. They were talking about sports and that topic never interested me much. Gale had said it was because I was gay. That had annoyed me and it had taken a whole lot of apologizing to get me to face him again. He was the only one who knew.

I was hiding in the back of my mind again, thinking about how commencement was tomorrow and how classes started right after. I tried to imagine the lessons and the teachers. They were probably much more luxurious than anything I had experienced before. I heard they were debate-based and I was deciding whether to put myself out there because I loved claiming my points or play it safe and be the quiet, secretly-smart one.

"Hello there, mind if I join you?" I heard the small, soft voice of the girl interrupt my thoughts and I looked up startled, ready to shake my head no before I saw her small frame, hesitating at the edge of the seat next to mine, a bright smile on her face. She was dark-skinned with black hair, neatly braided on each side of her face. Even smaller than Adrian, a feat I didn't think possible, she was wearing a plain blue dress, unlike the other girls who had come down in sweats and tank tops. She looked harmless and she wasn't doing this as a charity case.

"Sure. I just-" I started to excuse my actions, wiping my hands on a napkin so I could properly introduce myself. She seemed like the only person nice enough to take note that I was new and I liked when people stopped and acknowledged that instead of living their lives pretending I understood what was going on.

"Wanted to avoid the morning drama? I understand. I'm Rue," she murmured, keeping her cheerful smile as she extended her small palm and I grasped it into mine, smiling back at her a faint but genuine one. When she pulled back she glanced once at her food, making a face before looking at my plate. She had gotten the omelets and I had gotten the pancakes because they seemed like the safest bet. Besides, I was lactose intolerant and though I drank a lot of milk, I didn't like to suffer through the pain for no strong reason.

"Peeta," I muttered back, looking for a topic to start because I didn't want her to think I was weird or anti-social. She seemed so sweet. I wanted to ask her so many questions but I didn't want to turn this into some sort of interrogation where she had to be my tour-guide. I wanted to keep things light because it was too early to care.

"I know. You room with my brother," she mentioned and I had to double take because apart from the complexion and the chocolate colored eyes, there was nothing alike in their demeanor. Huge, intimidating Thresh had an innocent, petite sister? Who would have thought? This little girl was another one of the mafia children? Because I knew Thresh was for sure, I could deduce that from last night's brawl, which meant so was Rue. There were too many; it wasn't safe to ask anybody to catch me up with the backstory because odds were they would be part of this shady gang. As much as I tried to escape them, they seemed to find me. It was either that or I subconsciously floated closer to the inner circles because I found the whole phenomenon fascinating.

"You—wow—you guys don't…look too much alike," I struggled to say, nervously scratching my hair and she laughed, easing my fears.

"I get that a lot. I'm a freshman this year, new, so people that know him find it a little unsettling," she quipped cheerfully and her relaxed demeanor was kneading the tension in my shoulders. I had not looked around once since she had arrived because she did this thing where no matter what she was doing, she managed to maintain eye contact and tell you she cared about what was about to leave your mouth.

"Hey, you're new too right? New student orientation today?" she asked and I nodded before staring dumbly in her direction. I remembered reading about orientation and how it was mandatory for all new students. It was a way to play stupid games under the pretense of 'bonding'. It took me back to summer camp and long nights of never have I ever. Never _would_ I ever be made to play that game again. It was utterly inappropriate and quite humiliating. I wondered if prep school orientation was like that. I wondered how easily I would win if I played with this dorm. They had probably done everything under the sun.

'Never have I ever had an orgy—clap! Never have I ever adopted an African child—clap! Never have I ever died—clap!'

Maybe I would like to play it again for the sake of gathering some more information.

"Right. What exactly do we do?" I asked, suddenly losing my appetite and picking at the over-baked pancakes, shredding them to pieces. Rue chuckled and I thought she was going to answer before I heard a new voice reply to my question. I startled alert, looking up to see a tall girl with fiery red hair that was caught in a messy bun, curls escaping here and there to frame her freckle-full face. Her eyes were turquoise and I couldn't decide if that matched her hair or clashed badly with it.

"You sit around a whole lot, pretending to listen to rules and then you run around a whole lot, pretending to like everyone around you. Hi, I'm Gianna, one of the orientation leaders whose going to facilitate this torture for naïve children like you two," she explained, plopping herself on a chair and grinning at us. I couldn't help thinking her smile looked sly and her eyes cunning. She had on a bright sky-blue t-shirt that said that exact title on it in black lettering. I assumed it was in order to attract people, let them know she was a safe spot. Though I doubt her stare was welcoming and she had realized that now moving on to Plan B and deliberately approaching victims.

"Well, boy do you speak? I know Rue over here because she lives with us but who exactly are you? Has the boy's dorm traumatized you this badly?" she teased, chuckling, eliciting giggles from young Rue who had looked up at her cheerfully as she pet her curly hair. I thought she seemed too smug for her own good. I had come to realize everyone in this dorm felt privileged to insert themselves on other people's lives with the sole purpose of causing chaos.

"This is Peeta. He is the new junior," Rue offered and I thought it was _awesome_ that I was now referred to as 'the' new junior. It further told people how strange I was because I heard the school only accepted about thirteen new juniors a year. I was one of those lucky ones who got to join the club after the rules and regulations were set. I was that lost one, blindly following the others around in hopes of getting them to turn and face me, notice I was there in the first place. What an accurate description.

"Oh, the quiet one that Cato and Clove talk about in the hallways?" The redhead asked and I mentally sighed. The quiet one, yes that was me. But the second statement, now didn't seem right. It was more like the quiet one who 'the Russians bounce around like a ball' in the hallways. I heard them both chuckle and I flushed in horror realizing I had said that out-loud. I bit my lip looking around anxious before facing Gianna's pursued lips and Rue's shy smile. Other than the two who already knew I was the chilling at the bottom of the ladder, nobody else seemed to have noticed my mouth fart. Nevertheless, I covered my flaming cheeks with one hand as I tried to forget that moment ever happened. I was getting too comfortable with the girls. That traitorous phenomenon only happened with my old group of friends.

Before I had time to think of anything casual to say now that the ice seemed to be broken, I was interrupted because everyone seemed to be shifting around on their chairs at relatively the same time. It happened when another person entered the dining area. All eyes hovered towards the stairs in analyses before going back to their previous location.

"Hey, everybody, Molly's here!" I heard Cato scream and I startled, not having realized he had even entered the room because I had tried to force myself to sit still. I didn't like the follower attitude that the others exhibited. I heard the other boys exclaim different names before rushing over to surround him, standing there all dressed up and looking good.

"E's here!" Rue screeched happily, joining the rest of the boys and I was about to warn her against it because she seemed so small that I thought the stampede of hooligans would knock her over. I felt protective of her and I didn't want her to be around the others. It was a selfish need because she felt like the only person who could tolerate me and I knew that being around the others might influence her to treat me like they did.

"You can't be doing that, Cato," the redhead yelled, without even glancing back and I was trying to shift in my seat to see what the commotion was about. From the way that the others had lined up around him, creating a wall of human bodies I couldn't see anything from his neck down but I could tell he was looking at something in his hands. Who was Molly?

"Stop being a kill-joy, foxface," Cato screamed back and I heard the girl growl. I chuckled at the nickname before she fixed me with a heated glare and I had to shrug back, pouting innocently. It was hilariously accurate. I was surprised my brain hadn't thought of it first. It tended to think in pictures.

Foxface, because that's who she would permanently be in my mind thanks to Cato's ingenuity, seemed more flustered than her fiery hair and I looked down, feeling bad about falling to Cato's level and laughing at the mean nickname. I didn't know their relationship and I wasn't sure if she took offense but by the way her hand was clutching her fork, I assumed she didn't appreciate Cato's comment.

Staring submissively at the table again, I thought about how I didn't want to be stuck in the middle of another argument. Cato seemed to be the initiator of every single one of them. He was the fire to the insane amount of fuel that was just laying around in this dorm, waiting to be used for sinister purposes. Deep in thought I felt something scratch the back of my leg and I startled, whimpering, looking down to expect some sort of filthy rat or rabid raccoon. I had heard that some dorms, mainly the ones on the edge of campus got those. It had scarred me to think that I could possibly wake up being gnawed alive by a foul creature. I guess in that aspect it was good I had ended up in Capitol.

All I saw though was this fluffy, white puppy with a pink, wet tongue hanging from its mouth and shiny, big eyes. On it's right ear stood a pink ribbon, tied in a bowtie. It was propping itself on my chair, barking and looking at the food on the table with excitement. I sat there, looking at it in confusion and awe because it had literally appeared out of nowhere. Where dogs even allowed in the dorm?

"Sorry about that. I saw you flinch—are you allergic? This is Molly-like the drug. That's why people call her 'E'. She's just a big puffball—harmless really, " I heard Cato mutter from above me and I looked up to meet his blue eyes. He chuckled when explaining the name and I thought it was silly and a little bizarre. He probably thought he had been a smart-ass when he had chosen it. I doubt he regretted anything since then.

He was grinning at me as he bent down to pick up the puppy in his arms. I saw a glimpse of his toned chest as the pinnie he was wearing, dropped low and I forced my eyes to stay on the floor where the dog used to be. It was hard being around him because he just exuded this aura of masculinity. I could smell his cologne and it was as strong as his personality. I would not expect anything more subtle from him. His arms looked twice their size now that there was nothing holding them back. The flimsy, lacrosse pinnie hung loosely around his form, revealing more of his toned muscle than anybody was comfortable with. I could see the edge of his tattoo on the side where the two unnecessarily wide gaps where. I was confused at the anatomy of a pinnie. Was there like a ventilation thing going on with the sides? Was it supposed to be worn with nothing under? I didn't think so. Did this guy even play lacrosse?

"That is exactly why you can't bring her here, dumbfuck," Foxface quipped from the edge of the table and in my surprise at the two sudden appearances I had forgotten she was there. I looked up to see Cato stiffen, the dog still licking at his face and wagging her tail repeatedly in his arms. He stared side-ways towards where the redhead was sitting, huffing in annoyance, more of her hair having fallen from that bun. When she got mad, her face reddened and it didn't make her situation better. I felt bad.

"Calm your tits, sweetheart. Nobody was talking to you. She's only here for today," Cato muttered back and I felt myself speak up without my permission, intervening before the situation deteriorated. That tended to happen when Cato was involved—he didn't particularly like people talking back at him. He ruled this dorm with the 'respect me' attitude that made wonder how he was elected to be dorm-monitor in the first place.

"Is she yours? You-you have a dog?" I asked stupidly and his attention easily went back to me as he looked down at his pup before offering her form to me. The puppy wriggled in his hands wanting to be let down while he held her tighter in that famous 'lion king' position, waiting for me to make a move towards her. What if I had really been allergic? He would probably not have cared. I hesitated in my decision, surprised that he was capable of 'sharing' before reaching out and grabbing the soft, fluffy pup, bring her close to my chest where she immediately started playfully nipping at my face. She was fun and it was hard not to smile seeing her so excited to be in your presence.

"Molly is Marvel's. I got it for him," Cato replied and I raised my eyebrows in surprise, my mouth gaping. My attention completely forgot the dog, opting to stare at the blonde. He bought Marvel a dog? Under what circumstances was that casual?

'Oh hey, we are best buds—here's a dog. We'll name her Molly and raise her as our own like a big, happy, fucking family.' You got to be kidding me! Like what?

"You bought him a dog. Of course you did," I stated plainly, snapping my mouth shut and shaking my head in bewilderment. I heard him laugh from where he was standing, cocking his head side-ways, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement. Foxface snorted something that sounded a lot like 'show-off' under her breath and this time I had to agree with her.

Somehow it was hard to be happy about the fact that he was pleasantly paying attention to me when I had just found out he had gotten Marvel a live Pomeranian. My jealousy felt double-edged, once because Cato cared enough to get Marvel this gift and twice because here I was thinking that I could give Marvel a kiss and get him to befriend me. That thought was cringe-worthy to the point of seizures.

Abandon thread.

I did not care. At all. I didn't even like dogs. They pooped and then ate their own poop and then vomited and then ate their own vomit.

Marvel could have Molly. And Cato could have Marvel.

"Yeah, I did. I got it for his birthday back when we roomed together freshman year. He kept talking about how he liked dogs. It's a pity Seneca caught us though. Haymitch was fine with it until that rotten-ass mofo took her away. Now, he doesn't get to see Molly much," Cato rambled on and I didn't hear anything beyond 'birthday' because all I had gotten for my birthday last year had been money and though I couldn't complain, nothing meaningful had been waiting outside my door.

"Watch your mouth, Cato. You don't own the place," the redhead muttered under her breath, sneering at the table, clearly not ready to engage in a full-fledged fight with Cato who sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Every time I see you, newbie, people wanna grate on my nerves. You must think I'm a trouble-maker," Cato asked in that smooth way of his, bending down again this time to lightly scratch Molly's head. Since she was situated on my lap, this placed his face relatively close and pretty eye-level to my evading eyes. I could tell he wanted to be called a 'trouble-maker'. I could tell he wanted attention and like always I was providing it because I could sense the faint flush he had dusted on my cheeks. His eyes were shining in interest at getting to hear my answer. I didn't know what to say because I didn't like when he pushed me to corners like that.

"I think you're fine," I answered lamely, opting to choose to look at Molly nuzzling and nipping his hand instead of his face because he did these tricks with his features that pulled me in.

He wanted to test his dominance and if I gave up without a fight this would be over soon. If I just showed him that I was indeed shy and reserved and scared of him, that I would not go against him and his little gang, he would back off, lose interest and try breaking somebody else's backbone, somebody who still had a fighting spirit inside. Why couldn't he tell that wasn't me?

"So you like me?" he asked with a sly smile and insinuating eyes and I couldn't believe he was playing this children's game right now. I felt like he was mocking me, I was close to pushing the dog in his face and telling him to go fuck her. What did he want to accomplish? Was he that narcissistic that he needed all of the people he enslaved to appear like they were utterly infatuated with his godly body and his sapphire eyes?

"I think you are fine, Cato," I repeated this time in a colder tone that left no room for argument. I might have let him push me back but I wouldn't let him climb on top of me and ride me like a horse. I had dignity, the better version of what he had: pride. My eyes met his and I glared at how entertained he was. He thought he was winning. He thought he was always winning, that fucker.

The dog was starting to pull my shirt annoyingly and I was about to accuse them both of teaming up to further rile me up. He was a bully and I would not provide him with any weapons. He wasn't trust-worthy and he would use them against me for sure the first chance he got. He was a smart bully though and he knew exactly where to push and prod. That skill had probably something to do with his upbringing. He must have been taught to be tough, manipulating and very much in control. And here I had been thinking about the reasons why the Russians always ended up being the bad guys in American movies.

"You don't like me, blondie? You like Marvel better?" he pouted, his tongue making a quick and purposeful appearance to wet his upper lip and an evil glint caught his eyes. My mouth stuttered against my permission and he smirked at me knowingly, reaching up to grab the puffball from my lap. My hands had fallen by my side, clutching the chair and my eyes had slid to his mouth because I was still in shock that those words had come out of it.

As if his emotionally abusive attitude had not been enough, I felt his hands quickly run up my thighs before disappearing in the ball of fluff and removing the warmth of the puppy from my heating lap. My mouth went dry and I bit my lip to refrain from yelling something obscene at him. He always managed to make me feel bad about myself, dirty almost, weak. It was that skill that allowed him to be so powerful. He was looking down on me both literally and metaphorically, holding the trophy dog that symbolized to me and everyone around how close he and Marvel really were and how far everyone else had to run if they wanted to compete.

I felt like I was going to tear up because I was so fucking angry. I was furious and frustrated and I hated that I couldn't do anything about it. I wish Thresh had punched him in the face. I wish Foxface had shooed him away before he came to drop the weight on my lap. Here I was thinking he had changed, that Thresh was right they didn't hurt anyone. Here I was thinking he could be a sweetheart to people other than Marvel. Here I was thinking that looks were enough to overshadow his absurd personality because he was drop-dead gorgeous. But I would remain a gullible and hopeless faggot. And he would remain an emotionless dick because he had no reason to be nice to me.

I heard the others yell for him in the background and I shifted my eyes to realize that they were pointing at the stairs where Marvel was sleepily walking down, yawning every other step and looking like the zombie that he was every morning. He was still in a pair of plaid pajama pants and a white over-sized hoodie that covered his messy, morning hair. He looked around once, waving lazily at the boys' table before heading towards the food.

Only when he disappeared from my vision did I look away to see Cato staring at me in amusement and Foxface staring at me in sympathy. What the hell had I done? Was I not allowed to be curious? Everyone was doing it!

I blushed, getting irritated further as Cato shoved the dog in Foxface's lap before screaming Marvel's name. The girl made a face, rolling her eyes but not being assertive enough to reject the gift and she held it down even though the dog was fighting hard to run to her owner. I found it amazing that he could get everyone to do as he said. I felt like I was in a dictatorship with Cato controlling the others like pawns, telling them to pick up after him.

My eyes had started to burn a hole in the back of his head but he was too busy looking at the approaching Marvel to notice somebody as insignificant as me. From my peripheral vision, I saw the other boy still wrapped in his gigantic hoodie and very much looking like the dog near our table now holding one of those soy-milk cartons, lazily sipping from the straw.

"Good morning, sleepy-head. I got something for you," Cato murmured when the dark-haired boy was close enough, reaching over and pulling him in a hug while simultaneously looking at me with his fucking smug smile and his stupid victorious face. He thought he was god-almighty and all I wanted to do was put him back in his place.

So what if he and Marvel were in some sort of weird bromance where they weren't romantically attracted to each other yet at the same time they were exclusive because Cato ate alive anyone who would even think of getting in Marvel's vicinity? Who fucking cared? Not me, no sir, so there was no need to shove the interactions down my throat.

I would call Gale when I went back to the room. I felt bad not having answered his calls and for a second I felt fearful that while staring at the two boys in front of me in jealousy I was actually losing the bromance that I did have.

Marvel eventually pulled back, smiling slightly, his eyes still half-closed. He didn't seem to have had a good sleep either and thinking back to his state last night at check-in, I wondered if anybody ever got him to move on. By the stiffness in his body and the way he only half-smiled, one of the corners of his mouth raising, I assumed he wasn't back to his old self. Yet, he was indulging Cato, talking to him in Russian and laughing along. I couldn't understand what they were saying and I was pretty sure that was Cato's desire.

I had reached a conclusion: if Cato wasn't around, Marvel would be a better person.

I saw Cato eventually move back towards Foxface to remove the dog and hide it in his chest before turning around to reveal it. He was so corny and you could tell by his attitude that he thought he was so smart at having planned this whole thing. He didn't even acknowledge Foxface's help or the fact that she managed to keep it quiet, a feat seemingly impossible with how wiggly the puffball was ever since she took note of Marvel's scent. He was a dick to her and though she tried to look as if she was rebelling, it was pathetic to see that she actually hoped to gain his approval one day. He had clearly broken her and I didn't want him to break me, though a part of me knew resistance was futile because from afar I appeared to be as smitten by those very few charming smiles that he had sent my way as the redhead was.

"Look, who's here, Marvel!" he exclaimed, showing him the excited barking dog and I saw the other's eyes light up. It was as if there was a complete change and what Cato had offered was a piece of happiness and not a flee-bag with sharp teeth. He really must have liked dogs.

"Molly! Shit, Cato—How?" he asked in surprise, rushing forward to retrieve the puppy and hug it to his face. I couldn't tell which one, Molly or Marvel, was happier at the reunion because they both looked overjoyed. He was letting the dog lick his face and I had to cringe at that because it didn't seem sanitary, nor did those kisses he lay on her head. Did dogs even like to be treated like that?

If I had sadistically relished at Cato's failure yesterday, I had to admit defeat today because Marvel smile was back to beaming and he didn't seem to be going back anytime soon.

"Well, I thought since a bitch made you mad, it would take another bitch to get you happy again," Cato explained in his crude tone, laughing at his own joke and I was frowning at the vulgarity. It wasn't funny and it wasn't appropriate. He could be so ignorant. My god.

Marvel seemed to have a different opinion because he laughed and it actually seemed sincere, causing me to feel repulsed by the fact that I was even remotely attracted to him. After all, birds of a feather flock together.

I especially _adored_ how when they spoke to each other it was as if nobody else existed. He had yet to say hi to any of us. This fact did not surprise me but it did slightly dishearten me. I didn't like how Marvel only acknowledged my presence when it was just the two of us. I didn't like how Cato always took precedence.

"When's hockey today? I'll come see you," Cato asked and he was playing hard this morning. He was clearly trying which led me to believe that he felt threatened. I must have been doing something right though I had yet to realize what that was. He reminded me of those major business companies that upon sensing competition drove the prices down and teamed up with the other big guns to completely annihilate the little companies struggling to make a living. That was Cato right now and a part of me was scared back into the closet while the other part was up for the challenge. I couldn't stand his guts and I desperately wanted to show him up.

"Jesus, Cato. Marry him already, why don't you?" Sonny yelled from the table, his tone feigning annoyance as the other boys chuckled. I thought about how angry the two would get but was surprised to see Marvel burst into laughter while Cato flipped the bird, pointing his tongue out immaturely. They didn't seem fazed at all.

"Don't be jealous, Sonny. I'll be there for you too, baby," I heard Cato snort sarcastically and the Asian boy chuckled before keeping the game up as they bantered back and forth. Marvel moved to look at me before rolling his eyes and without my permission I instinctively smiled back at him before stopping myself.

Fuck my life.

"At five but it's just a scrimmage so you don't have to. Let's chill after though?" Marvel offered when he realized that the other two had stopped acting like children. They had started to inch away from me, Marvel running ahead to stop Molly from destroying the dining hall while Cato had settled next to Sonny who had yet to move from the table. Everyone had finished eating and was sitting down for the sake of talking and wasting time. I bet they would be there until they got kicked out when brunch was over.

Once they had disappeared from the vicinity of my table, I turned back towards Foxface who was sitting there pretending to not care. It was strange how fast she had gone from the overly social, bubbly personality to this distant girl. I suddenly felt awkward because I didn't know what conversation to start with her. Where had Rue gone? Last I'd seen her she was running behind the white dog.

"Don't try. Everyone does before they realize that Cato has his claws deep in there," she muttered and she seemed bitter, which automatically gave away the fact that she had been like everybody else. He had managed to extinguish her hopes and now she ambled along, pretending to hate him, probably secretly actually hating him, but not enough to stop herself from following his lead, conforming with the rest.

"Yet they are not together," I mumbled before I could stop myself because I found their relationship ridiculous and confusing. The back of my mind thought I was hypocritical because that was exactly how Gale and I functioned but at least we had tried, we had attempted to make it work, spark a flame.

It hadn't been right. That's what he had said and I had lived with that, moved on.

"Like _together_ together? No, no. Cato's as straight as it gets. He has actually fucked the other twin—shit no! I didn't say that," She hurried to stop herself and the wide-look in her sea foam eyes made her seem scared. She had spilled out valuable information and I couldn't keep a straight face. She had told me that Cato had slept with Glimmer and I didn't know how recent or covert this story was but I sure as hell was not going to 'forget it' any time soon.

"Cato had sex with Glimmer?" I asked simply, trying to make it sound as if it wasn't such a big deal. Maybe that way she would say more. Did Marvel know about this? Is this the reason behind their constant fights? It couldn't be. By the broken state of their relationship, it was something much larger than a blonde flirt who apparently liked to play all fields.

"Look, don't mention this to anyone. It's nothing. I shouldn't have said it. It's not my place," she muttered panicky, waving her hands in front of her. I shrugged, looking over at Cato who was sitting down, oblivious to the table of losers that we were on. I felt myself smirk. It felt good to have one up on him.

"You've said it now. You might as well finish the story," I muttered and I knew I was being mean but it's a dog eat dog world and frankly I wanted to eat that white dog that Cato bought Marvel. Foxface seemed cornered, hesitating with a palm over her forehead. I couldn't feel pity towards her because nothing major would happen if she spilled the beans now.

"Look, it's normal to be attracted to Marvel—fuck, no. Erase that. Let's just say Marvel is…_special-_I'm begging you to not get involved in this. It's way beyond any of us common people," she stated and her tone had shifted to a serious one. I couldn't understand what she was getting at but I knew her last sentence was meant to be a threat. She had technically told me that there was a reason I shouldn't know and if I knew the mafia would be after me. Needless to say I wouldn't be digging that treasure anytime soon. After all I didn't need that. I didn't care about what kinds of special Marvel was. That just seemed like an excuse that people who were in denial used. What I did care about was the other part, the first part, the Glimmer part.

I knew I couldn't use it right now. It was too early. It would be my word against his because let's face it nobody would stand up against him. Marvel would surely take his side because he can pout and because he has pretty blue eyes, because he offers him hugs and wants to cheer him on at hockey games and buys him dogs. I wouldn't use the bomb this early in the game. What was the fun in that? It was a waste.

I stood up, ignoring the fact that Foxface seemed reluctant to share more. I had gotten all I needed. She looked at me pleadingly but I only muttered 'see you at orientation' before turning my back. Scarping my plate clean, I looked over at Cato who I knew was sitting at the table like a predator. When I caught his gaze, I smirked at him and I could tell he was caught off guard because up until now I had never showed him any of that side.

His smile fell from his lips and he scowled at me. He wasn't as threatening as before though because now I had that ego boost and I wondered how hard I would fall if this was old news and Marvel was completely fine with it. I would have bet my fortune on a losing horse.

We had yet to see though. As I turned towards the stairs, I could see Cato search for Marvel with his eyes and I knew we were in similar positions. Because though I didn't know if my weapon was actually a weapon, he didn't know what I had taken grasp off and whether I would be strong enough to use it.

Frankly, I didn't know that either.


	4. Firing on All Cylinders

**Chapter 3: Firing on All Cylinders**

_Peeta's POV (Sunday)_

It was getting close to three, orientation time and I had started pacing back and forth in my room, trying to decide on what to wear. I wasn't worried about wearing the wrong thing in the dorm, that didn't have consequences. I didn't want however to be the one standing out in the midst of all the new students. It was bad enough that there were only very few juniors going and that I would have to walk over surrounded by our tiny freshman. Nowhere to hide there. I didn't want to make the situation worst by being the rich, kiss-ass kid whose non-mafia parents were snobby enough to pay so he inhabited next to the mafia children.

Thresh had disappeared yet again. I practically had a single—one filled with tons of crap that nobody would ever need—because he was never around. Most of the time that fact pleased me because just his presence made it harder for me to function, seeing as I had to watch all my actions. Right now however, that neglect was unnerving me because I desperately needed to ask somebody about this dress code, not only for this but also for chapel where we were supposed to be 'formal'. Honestly, there were so many stages of formal: no jeans, khakis, dress suit, tux, _robes_. How could Haymitch expect me to know what to do with just one word?

I knew I had to leave my cave of a room to ask around but I didn't know exactly where to head. Who would be around in the afternoon? Scratch that, what was there to do on a Sunday afternoon anyway?

With that thought in mind, I exited the room looking around at the choices before me. Five other rooms though it was actually two because the rest of them I had yet to meet their inhabitants. Between Marvel and Cato, I would definitely pick Marvel in just about anything so heading towards the room next to the bathroom was a no-brainer. Besides, he had been helpful once before and he hadn't been a bitch about it.

I knocked on the door gingerly, taking a deep breath and pretending that I wasn't listening to that cowardly part in my brain telling me to wing it if it meant going back into hiding. There was silence inside and I didn't know if I had been too gentle or if they were ignoring me. Knowing Marvel, he was probably taking an afternoon nap in which case I didn't know if my problem was big enough to wake him up. I was selfish though because I kind of wanted to see him again so I ended up knocking a little harder this time and waiting as if to be let into the doors of heaven by god himself.

"They're at team-lunch. What do you need?" I heard Cato yell all the way from his room and I sighed inwardly, smacking my head against the unresponsive door. Great. What was he doing, standing guard of anyone that knocked on his sweetheart's door? Keeping track of his location? What a freak.

I loved how he asked if I needed anything. He seemed polite enough now because he didn't know it was I trying to barge into the room. I would take him up on the offer though because at this point it was meant to be. He was my only way out and as much as I despised having to face him again, I had to be an adult about this. What was the worst scenario possible—I would get kidnapped and be transformed into a sex-slave chained up in that room forever. That wasn't extremely bad, I mean sex slave for Cato—

No! End of that story. That was pretty bad but highly unlikely.

I dragged my feet in front of the other room and debated whether to knock. I mean he had invited me inside but I, being the polite human being that I was, would announce my presence again just in case I accidentally witnessed something I didn't _consciously_ want to see.

"Do you want me to open the door for you? Coz that's just not gonna happen," he mumbled after my two curt nods and I rolled my eyes, lowering the handle and letting myself in.

Wow. Wow for different reasons. First, his room was huge, much bigger than ours and much better furnished. I couldn't believe he had unpacked this quickly—I mean he had a couch for god's sake and a TV, inside the room. These mafia connections gave you luxury living conditions, classic. The walls were non-existent because he had managed to put an obscene and highly inappropriate poster on all sides. How can a fifteen year old like Edan wake up to such—ugh god I pitied him. Lady parts everywhere. Lord, he couldn't be more of a straight, highly-sexual, teenage male. I wondered if he just jacked off sitting on top of his bed and looking around—what a funny and perverted thought. I had to smile at myself then.

"You're going to have to talk, I can't look away from here," he muttered annoyed, his eyes glued on the screen. I was surprised to see he was playing Fifa on his Xbox 360. He knew what football was? He knew what the real 'football' was in most of the world but America where it suffered the name 'soccer'? He was playing with Real Madrid, which I found interesting because I thought a bastard show-off like him would definitely go for the popular one, Barcelona. I wondered if he actually watched football. He would most probably be Barcelona fan if he did.

He was settled on his couch, topless just sporting a pair of sweatpants with his legs propped up one of the suitcases he had yet to unpack. He had more clothes? From his very basic sweatpants outfits he had been wearing the past few days I would not have thought he was a fan of clothing. From his 45-degree-angle slouched position, I could guarantee that he had not moved from that spot since brunch probably. I loved how he awaited his guests, half-naked. It seemed like the force that he was, in his entirety. I realized he was still waiting for my answer and I thought about leaving him alone in all his glory but it was too late to back out now. Somehow I always threw myself into situations that were irreversible.

"You seem busy," I voiced plainly in that sarcastic way that let him know I wasn't about to leave for said reason. I was merely 'making my presence known' and waiting for the next cue that would decide our dynamic. This was after all the first time we were alone and knowing how everyone transformed—usually into better people—when they were isolated from the group, I was expecting a less hostile attitude.

"Blondie, what's up? Come in, don't create a draft," he stated, still not looking my way once and I could tell he was in a better mood, which with Cato automatically meant he had smoked up and therefore was feeling good about his life. I wondered if he did it in the dorm. Did he run that risk?

I was reluctant to let the door close behind me, mostly because I didn't want to be trapped in any sort of area with the brute but I had to indulge him because being naked must have been awfully hard and we couldn't simply let him catch a cold now by 'creating a draft'.

"Maybe if you weren't chillin naked…" I started muttering under my breath, looking around the room since he was surely going to take some time with the game and I didn't want to look too excited about it. I loved Fifa but I wouldn't tell him that. I would sneakily glance over to see if he sucked at it because that would make me happy.

"Can't I love myself in the privacy of my room all alone?" he snapped back playfully and I laughed because he had been fair and admitted he was narcissistic. There was something admirable about people who could make fun of themselves, admit their flaws. I couldn't do it out loud but I wish I had the confidence to. He clearly had an abundance of that.

Another thing he had an abundance of was photographs, printed out on luster paper and stuck on the wall next to his bed, which was littered in expensive comforters from brands I didn't even know produced bed sheets. It was hard to see all of them in great detail without having to lean on the bed, which I did because he owed me that after having contaminated my sleeping space a few days ago. I assumed he had put them there so he was the only one who actually got to enjoy them. They must have been private. Even more of an excuse to actually climb on the bed and analyze them. I doubted he would stop me with his eyes following the players on the screen.

I noticed they were all of him and his friends. Not many of his family but a lot of the twins and a black haired girl with a cute, squished face and short, sleek hair. I assumed that was Clove. I hadn't had the pleasure of meeting her yet. The wall placed everything into perspective because there were pictures of them practically in baby clothes. They had really known each other since fucking forever. When Cato had met Marvel and Glimmer I hadn't even been born yet.

There were a lot of adorable ones where the boys were making faces at the camera, both in diapers or matching blue shirts. There were a lot of Clove and him growing up, holding hands or hugging each other. There was a set of pictures that chronologically tracked their growth, all in front of the same doors the first day of school for the past 8 years. That had to be the cutest thing I had ever seen parents do. Why were my parents less affable than the mafia? Like how was that possible?

I laughed out loud when I reached a picture of him and Marvel as freshman, both in E.L. shirts and making duck-faces at the camera. Oh Christ, Cato had long hair, long skater hair—I thought I would never see the day. Marvel's was much curlier and much lighter than when I first met him, practically the same color as Cato's platinum ones. This was gold.

There were more of those humiliating ones, once with Marvel holding a tiny, baby Molly, beaming at the camera, once during their first commencement next to whom I assumed to be the headmaster, once with a group of older boys, all of whom were giving the camera what I had been told was the Capitol hand sign. Those must have been the seniors their freshman year.

As much as the wall was depressing me because he clearly was well liked and outgoing, I couldn't tear my eyes away. It fascinated me to see Cato for something other than the egotistical blonde mocking me in the school cafeteria in front of his bully, immature friends.

The picture that was the subtlest display of their popularity had to be the series of Prom pictures that the three had taken together. They had one for each year of high school, which meant a senior had invited them ever since they first arrived here. The boys were in tuxes though the colors changed as they grew up and Glimmer always stunning in gorgeous, expensive long dresses. In the past two, Clove had joined the club and though she wasn't as attractive as the tall blonde, she was pretty and cute, cuddling next to Cato and grinning widely.

This year it would be their own Prom and though it was at the very end of the year that had yet to even commence, I started thinking about whom they were going to ask and how happy their dates would be because they were clearly popular. Would I get asked to prom? It had never been important to me in my last high school. I would have probably been asked there but here it was debatable and here it seemed to matter.

"Hey! Buddy! Are you done gawking at my room yet? I was starting to forget you were even here," Cato asked and I didn't know if he had been talking to me before that sentence. I was too busy looking at the earlier versions of him to care. I liked those ones better. Those ones you could just look at without having to be disappointed when they opened their mouths.

"I liked your long hair, wonder why you ever chopped that gem off," I muttered smirking and I saw him try to look back before going back to his game, his legs falling back on the floor.

"Are you on my bed?" he exclaimed and I could see he was struggling to divide his attention. By his defensive over reaction, I could assume I was right: the photos were not for the public eye. He was tense now and for a second I wondered if he would throw me out of his room. I wondered if this was enough to make him lose his cool. I would soon find out it wasn't; another thing was.

"You were on _my _bed," I mumbled, pouting, hoping to get him to think of me as cute, little Molly. I doubt he minded having her on his bed. Or Glimmer for that matter but I couldn't think like that or I would fuse the posters on the wall with her face; I had a pretty good imagination. Yuck.

"Unless you plan to spend the night there, jump off," he teased, smirking and I had to roll my eyes at his sexual innuendo but remained sitting still, invading his bed. I didn't mind his jabs here because they didn't spread rumors. It was just Cato being his usual jerk self.

I gave him props for keeping his anger under control though. I could only guess how badly he wanted to grab me by the hair and throw me out of the window. He didn't want to divulge the fact that he, in reality, had a soft spot and that was his friends who he fell asleep to. No wonder he took measures to keep the wall on the down low; he would lose his authority if people knew.

"Oh, this now, do I even have any words?" I mumbled in between giggles, laying back on the bed, having spotted a picture of him all naked with nothing but a piece of paper in front of his crotch area. Upon second inspection, I saw it was an acceptance letter from Stanford University. This was the college he was looking to attend but this was one of the top colleges in the world and like impossible to get into.

Wow, how much did this cost his dad I wonder?

"More than your life, I'm sure," he snapped, hurt and I shot up from the bed, startled, doing the first thing my panicked body could do: squeal. I couldn't believe I had said that out loud. Oh no! Oh, no, no, no. Why god? Why body? That wasn't okay. I had just—kill me, kill me now. Shoot me with that sniper your daddy has set up right outside your big, awesome room.

"Don't have a seizure on my bed, moron. Go die somewhere else," he drawled and I stuttered an apology because I didn't know what else to do. That definitely made me jump of the bed as if burned and now I was awkwardly standing next to the door about to escape. I had gotten too comfortable again because he wasn't attacking me and I thought I was on top of the world, sitting on his fluffy bed next to his pile of secrets.

"You're not the first one to think that. You are just the first one to say it out loud. Chill. I don't give a fuck. For your information though, I was a sport's recruit. I play Tennis," he mumbled and no matter how hard he was trying to make it casual, I could tell it had stung. I felt like an asshole. My friends were right: I was a conceited brat when it came to academics. I wanted to apologize but I didn't know where to start. I doubted he would take it to heart anyway; not a word of it could erase what I had just blurted. So I settled for the next thing my thoughts had offered.

"It's beautiful there. If you ever wanna visit we can host you, I live in Cali," I offered, trying to appease him and he snorted so I flinched, expecting the worse. Why would I even think he wanted to stay over my house? That would probably be disastrous anyway with my crazy stepmother and my annoying half-brothers. He would be too close to my secrets then. I couldn't have that, though I would be curious to see how he would handle Gale.

"You do know Stanford is in Palo Alto; you live in LA," he retorted and I was surprised that he knew the geography of California and that he had been paying attention when I first said where I lived. He didn't seem like he was going to start a fight and that surprised me also because I knew I had made a low blow and I deserved one in return.

Somehow, it seemed worse having him ignore me, deem me too insignificant to spend energy arguing with. What was there to argue about anyway? He had gotten in and nothing I could do could take that away or so I had thought. He had already won and I was being the bitter one who couldn't accept that he was smart because that was my territory and if he could excel there too than I would have nothing special.

"Can't you pause that?" I asked dumbly, frustrated because I was tired of having him not face me. It made it harder to read his emotions. He chuckled at my question and I felt better because this one sounded genuine, not like his sarcastic remarks. I couldn't wait to move on from that awkward atmosphere that I had help settle. I would give up anything at this point to erase my mistake even if it meant he went back to his abrasive self.

"You can't exactly pause Xbox Live, you know?" he mumbled, glancing at me once with his blue eyes before they moved back to the screen. The contact had been too short and I wanted to do something to grab his attention again. I looked over at the bed where I had ruffled the sheets before I decided that I had risked enough for today and it was time for me to say what I had really come here for. I sighed, preparing for the mocking. I have totally deserved it so come at me with all you have, Cato.

"You can for thirty seconds to switch players in," I quipped quietly and I saw him raise an eyebrow before pausing it, the main screen appearing in front of him next to the number countdown. He turned around, staring at me amused and my breath caught in my throat now that I had his full attention. His eyes swept once down my body before he smirked at me, entertained by I-don't-even-know what.

"Fine, smart-ass. You have thirty," he retorted, cocking his head sideways and I was frozen in spot. I should have never asked him for this. I remembered why my mouth stopped working when he was facing me; his eyes were too intimidating. Maybe reading every expression was not favorable because I could spot those mocking ones in between the innocent amusement. He raised his eyebrows at my hesitation, looking back once at the numbers on the screen before staring back at me and I gulped, opening and closing my mouth like a fish. Ugh, I was borderline bipolar with him.

"What should I wear at orientation?" I asked hesitantly, muttering, annoyed that I had been made to do it. I really didn't want to be in this position. I knew I had to before the numbers ran out though. I didn't want to look like a fool.

"Has nobody given you an orientation shirt? It looks something like the one Adri had on today. Blue, white lettering, last name on the back? Shit, ait, wait," he asked and I was shocked to see his persona had totally changed into what I would find out to be 'the dorm monitor'. He had not given me a knowing look; he had not laughed. He had just started explaining full speed to get all his sentences in. He looked excited though and I wondered what about this simple shirt had everyone talking because it had been a topic in the dining hall this morning too.

I shook my head no because I couldn't yet voice my thoughts with my mind being freaked out by his transformation. Is this the Cato that all the faculty got to see? Is this the one that fooled them all into thinking he was the ideal star-student? He looked back at the countdown, making a frustrated face before standing up and walking past me to his drawers. I stepped back when he first approached me because he was tall and towering, with a determination in his eyes that I had rarely seen.

The numbers were dropping to single digits and before I could hesitate, I jumped on his seat as soon as the game began again and started playing for him. It felt good to touch the controller again. The blazing green of the field soothed my nerves and I couldn't remember the reason I quit. I used to be good at this. It was a great substitute for the actual sport, which managed to keep me sane during my teen years. I saw him look back at me, still hunched over before chuckling and continuing to rummage through his drawers.

"You play? I would have never guessed," he mumbled and I shrugged before forgetting that he wasn't looking my way. He was too busy finding me an orientation shirt. I suddenly felt grateful that he had sacrificed some energy to even help me with this case instead of saying 'tough luck'. He was being nice and I knew why: because he liked the attention being concentrated solely on him. At this point I didn't know if her was madder at me crushing on his Marvel or at me not crushing on him, well not as much. It probably was a little bit of both, knowing how touchy he got around Marvel when I was around.

"Right, I can't play sports because I'm gay —shit that was out loud! Fuck no, please!" I hurried panicked to say something that would delete that, come up with an excuse. Why! I was completely appalled by my stupid brain. What had just happened? I hadn't just said that. I hadn't just come out in front of my abuser. I hadn't just blurted blackmail material right when I thought I was ahead. He would—no god!

He was standing up, no longer facing away, a blue shirt dangling in his left hand and his mouth gaping. His eyes had widened, focused upon my horrified face and if I wasn't this scared I could have played it of. But I was this scared. My heart was beating out of my chest and eyes were starting to sting.

It was out of my control. The weight of having to admit it out loud was settling on me and I didn't even know what to do with myself.

"Blondie—" he started, running a hand through his short golden hair before looking around the room, exasperated. He couldn't even look at me right now. He was uncomfortable and he was disgusted.

He would tell people. He would reveal my secret before I was ready. By tomorrow the whole school would know because his word was law, unquestioned. I would be ostracized. I couldn't do this. I could control my emotions during the other times, the times I had been called all other things like loser and nerd and bastard child. That I had learned to ignore, to grit my teeth through but this was new. This even I hadn't come to terms with. Why did I betray myself? Did I have this much of an urge to self-destruct as Freud would say?

I didn't know what my problem was.

All I knew was I had to fix it. I had to protect myself above all others because if I wanted to survive in this boarding school without being shoved into locker rooms and kicked out of sports teams, I had to keep this my secret. I didn't mind the bullies in my last school. They were childish, immature; they didn't know the damage they caused and they would eventually regret it. Besides, it was only during the day. But I lived here day and night for nine months of my life. I couldn't handle that without breaking.

That's why I did it and I regret it to this day.

"If you tell anyone, I'm telling Marvel you fucked his sister," I rambled quickly, stepping back on the couch when realization hit him and his eyes startled, scared and trapped for a moment. He tried to play it off immediately after; he tried to seem calm but I had seen it, the weakness and I had realized that against all odds he was as desperate as I.

"What. Did you say? You are telling Marv what?" he snapped, furious, crossing the small distance between us and towering over my whimpering figure, wanting to disappear at the edge of the couch. I knew he was threatening me. I knew if I repeated it again, it was all out war but I had to. Otherwise, I wouldn't be sure. I had blown the first cannon and there was no way out now.

"I know you slept with Glimmer," I whispered and his glare was murdering my very soul, daring me to go against him one last time. His arms came to block me on the couch, settling down on either side of me and I pushed back, staring at him in fear. He would hurt me.

"Who told you?" He bellowed and I wondered if anybody from the outside could hear this was happening. I wondered if anybody would save me from him, if anybody would risk their life to approach this beast, trapping poor, weak, defenseless me in his tower.

"It doesn't matter now, does it? You did it, admit it!" I screamed at his face, thrashing around. I wanted to leave his room and never come back again. I thought about screaming for help but that would sound idiotic. I had to stay put. He would not risk his admission by physically assaulting me, though he seemed to be doing that indirectly.

"Shut up! Don't you _ever_ threaten me again! You hear that? The minute you even think about mentioning this to Marvel, I'll make sure you'll regret the day you came to this school. I'm the king around here, and don't you fucking forget it!" He yelled and I was stunned immobile, staring up at him in shock and disbelief.

He was insane, insanely in control of everything. And here I was trying to scare him into silence. I was pretty sure I had frightened him though because he was now at a state of fight or flight. Why was this such a big deal? What the hell would Marvel even say? It was just sex. By the look of ruthless desperation in Cato's blue eyes, I knew it was much more than that. It was a case that could break their friendship. It was the key to taking Marvel away from Cato and if he wasn't threatening to make me miserable, probably kill me, I might have actually considered it. But I wasn't ready to fight Cato. It was like entering a losing battle and fighting on the forefront—it was suicide.

"Don't! Stop—don't do that," he muttered annoyed, his tone lowering as he grasped my face to stop me from moving away. I flinched and it took the torn look in his face blurring immensely for me to realize he was talking about my crying. I had started to actually tear up, I could now feel the blazing hot trails running down my cheeks and wetting his fingers where he was forcing me to face my decision.

I didn't want to be here. I wanted a way out.

"Cato, are you okay in there, man?" I heard Marvel ask worriedly from outside of the door and both our eyes snapped in the direction of his voice, the wooden separation between the two Russians. He had returned and he was standing only a few feet away. He could ease this situation. If I could just get him to come, he could tame Cato and save me from this. I had to get him to open the door, just open the door and everything would get back to normal. I would leave, lock myself in my room and we would hopefully pretend this never happened. I would never open my mouth about Cato's secret and hopefully he would not get involved in mine. It was the mature, noble way to do it. Though I doubt, mature was Cato's forte at the moment.

I knew though from the way Cato cursed under his breath, looking around lost and trapped that the last thing he wanted was Marvel to witness any of this. He would try anything to prevent it and if there was any way I was going to come out of this un-traumatized I would have too—Shit! I would have to scream!

Before I could even remember how to open my mouth and use my voice, Cato had already placed a palm on top of my lips, looking at me sternly and mouthing for me to 'stay quiet'. I whimpered pathetically shaking my head but not wanting to further defy him without having a plan. I had to stay calm; I was close to losing my mind. By now I really did not know where this was going to go. I was trembling in fear. What was he going to do to me?

"I'm fine, Marv. I'll be over in a few," Cato voiced gently, trying hard to drown the anger in what he tried to play of as affection because he realized that the more he remained quiet, the more Marvel was getting suspicious. I noticed that even the slightest presence of the other had calmed him down because his hands were no longer shaking in fury and his lips were not as snarled as before.

"Don't get him involved," he whispered to me, making it sound like an order and I looked up to him through my stinging wet eyes, wanting to believe that he was right but knowing that I was right. Marvel had to be in the room.

I took a breath in through my nose, smelling the sweat in his hand. He was still looking away, biting his lip in concern and before I had time to doubt myself or give him a chance to recover his position of control, I shoved him away from me and into the table behind him. He had thought I had given up fighting; he had miscalculated and I had to take advantage of that mistake.

In my mind I never stopped fighting.

He growled, animalistic in rage, cursing at me out loud but it was too late because the door had snapped open, divulging his secret to the world and revealing Marvel's perturbed face. The taller one turned around to stare at him in surprise and the way the other's green eyes accused him in questioning startled the blonde into clutching the wooden desk behind him.

I took the opportunity to jump off the couch on complete reflex, feeling myself step over his discarded shirt and flee towards the door but not with the intention of escaping. I didn't shove the blocking Marvel aside because the way out wasn't what I was most interested in. I went straight into his arms, grabbing his shirt and causing him to stumble backwards. He broke the eye contact with the blonde to look down at me in astonishment.

He had been holding Molly under his arm when he first entered but now she was settled on the floor, sitting next to his feet and looking at the three of us in happiness, her tongue still out and her tail wagging rapidly. I wish I were her in this situation, ignorant to the tension.

"Cato, what the hell is going on? What did you do to him?" Marvel whispered, for the first time since I met him in a tone that was more authoritarian than the dorm monitor's, still thrown off while I used his shirt as a napkin to dry my face. I heard Cato stumble to reach us, stuttering out excuses and telling him repeatedly that 'it wasn't his fault' and he 'didn't do anything'. I could tell by the stiffness in the brunette's body that it wasn't good enough.

"What do you mean? He's crying Cato. Why the fuck is he crying?" my protector screeched and I could tell he was upset. His hands came up to pull my face away from his chest as if he needed to confirm that I was really shedding tears. I obeyed but kept my yes down because a part of me felt as if I was purposely creating the divide between the two friends and I had never meant for that. At least not consciously. A look of complete horror overtook the curly-haired boy's face before he gently pushed me aside and stepped in front of me to face the other.

"Did you hit him? Cato, look at me! Did you touch him?" Marvel was screaming, motioning widly with his hands and I could see the same explosive reaction happening behind Cato's eyes. This really was his Achilles' heel; his weakest point and the rock of guilt that he could never wash away from his conscience.

Something inside of him snapped and before I could speak up to warn the other boy of something I was certain he had predicted long before I, the blonde had closed the distance between them, menacingly. There was no fear in Marvel's posture, only worry and annoyance. I wondered how often this had to happen to become this practiced.

"Did I touch him? Did I fucking touch him? Like this you mean?" he snapped angrily and before I knew what had happened, he had slapped the shorter one in the face so hard that the smack echoed across the four, covered walls. I might have sobbed out loud in apprehension.

Molly had snarled, rushing forward and barking insistently, wrestling with the edge of Cato's sweatpants. She seemed ferocious, releasing high-pitched sounds. It only took Cato around three seconds of realization before he kicked the dog lightly on its face, trying to get it to detach from where she had plunged her teeth in the cotton material of his pants. He shook his leg, sending her skidding on the floor up until she bumped against the wall, whimpering. I reached out to grab her then because her tail was between her legs and she was trembling in fear. I felt fury just looking at the state of the puffball and I could see the shock that was written all through Marvel's face. He wasn't happy.

He didn't move towards her though. He stayed put and recovered quickly, not even inching to touch the bruised cheek instead opting to raise his hands in order to soothe the shattered blonde. Why was he still here? Why was he still trying to get that fucking monster to understand? Couldn't he see he was livid, that he saw nothing past his fog of rage?

"Cato, stop," the shorter one begged but I could tell it wasn't because he was scared of further damage, it was because I was in the room. He had physically assaulted someone with me, another witness, the witness that they were fighting hard to avoid. I could tell—I was going to tell; I had to! I didn't care anymore if that meant his entire life went down the toilet; he fucking deserved it.

I saw the regret flash in slow motion through the blue eyes and I wondered if it was because he was now in risk or because he really didn't mean to hurt the other. I didn't want to give him any undeserved credit. For all I knew, everything he did had selfish reasons behind it.

Marvel tried to move towards me and when he turned around, I saw the wide cut that now inhabited his left cheek, bleeding and bruised. It shocked me into action and my hands reached for the door handle, shaking and uncontrollable. The dog was still flush against my shirt, offering me comfort and I knew I had to leave. Noticing my intent, Marvel hurried to come after me, block my escape and I pushed myself back into the wall, aghast and nervous. I didn't want another confrontation. The dog kept whimpering. Cato grabbed the other's forearm, pulling him back a little closer than normal and I had to flinch because I was awaiting another impact.

"Don't go to him," the blonde pleaded instead and I noticed he wasn't angry. It was as if the hit had taken every ounce of violence from his body. He now felt like Marvel was making a choice between us and until the last second, he would never let that choice be me over him.

He was too dense to understand that the choice was always him, even at the moment, bleeding and probably in pain, Marvel was only trying to make sure that nothing would come out of my mouth so that the abuser was safe.

I swear he was much better than this. It felt like Stockholm Syndrome. Marvel couldn't be serious about wanting to live through this madness because I knew this couldn't have been the first time. The blonde offered nothing positive—nothing! It was a waste. What a stupid, stupid retard the curly-haired boy was!

"Niki, _pazhalusta_. Think of Stanford," the boy whispered, reaching out to detach the other's fingers from the deathly grasp they had on his forearm, which was starting to change color with the lack of circulation. I was surprised to see him use his actual name but I guessed at this point I had so much damaging information that a fake alias would never be able to hold it back. Besides, I had known of it anyway.

I was certain that it had special meaning to them when they did mention the real names because the blonde's eyes went soft and for a split second I was pretty sure he was about to cry, the blue exploding like a stormy sea before he yanked his body away from trapping the shorter one and slumped his face and arms on his bed. He seemed devastated and for some weird reason I felt bad. I wanted to apologize because I had done this to him. He had only wanted to help and I had transformed his rare cheerfulness into this disaster.

Now, that the last resistance was lost, Marvel was by my side, leading me out of the room, guiding me with an arm around my shoulders. Cato had yet to raise his eyes form the soft comfort of his bed and I doubt he wanted to see any of this. The door opened and slammed shut, those two very familiar sounds and we walked down the hallway into my room where Thresh was missing as usual.

I was in a haze, looking at the droplets of blood, escaping the laceration on his soft usually rosy cheek. I couldn't believe Cato had touched him, Marvel who was always by his side with that wide smile of his and those big, green eyes. Here, I had been wanting to know about the mafia, about the secrets that the two boys shared, their inner struggles and now that I had accidentally been offered a glimpse, I felt sick. I didn't want to be part of this anymore. It wasn't normal. It wasn't what I wanted my life to be like.

"You're bleeding," I stated still in shock and he smiled at me sadly, climbing on the bed where I had sat down, all the way crawled next to the wall in the spot that hid my misery. I had released Molly and she had gone into hiding probably under my bed. I assumed she was terrified of the new territory. He was kneeling in front of me and I thought of all the times when I had lay hoping he was propped like this on the bed, just looking at me with no one else around. I had wished he were to comfort me and that's exactly what he was doing now but it didn't feel right because though I knew he was only worried about my sniveling, snotty self and Cato's self-destructing tantrums, he was the one who ended up the most damaged from our stubborn encounter.

"It's just a scratch; Cato doesn't mean it. It doesn't even hurt," he hurried to reassure me, still smiling as much as he could and I could see that the happiness was not reaching his eyes. His strength was making me cry. I didn't want him to be hurt.

I reached out to touch his cheek with my quivering fingers and was captivated by the red that stained them. I looked up to him in wonder and he leaned over to plant a kiss on my forehead. My heart stopped and I bit my lip until it hurt to stop from breaking down in front of him completely because no! I was his Gale. He couldn't be mine! I already had one. Who did he have? Who picked him up?

"Peeta, you can't tell anyone. Will you promise me that, little one?" he murmured against my skin and I despised him because he wasn't doing this for me. He didn't give two damns about me! He was using his charms and the obvious fact that I was smitten with him to protect his own. Whom he really cared about was Cato! The only reason he wasn't there with the blonde's head on his lap was because I had seen! Because I knew! And now he had to be here, sinking low and groveling to protect an honor that wasn't worth saving, a life that wasn't worth all this sacrifice.

He was as manipulating as Cato. He was only doing this to get somewhere and with every passing second he was crushing me because I knew I would obey him. I was oblivious to Cato's demanding attitude because like those were many but I had seen nothing like Marvel before. He was special and fuck—I had said it too. I had used that lame excuse. He wasn't innocent. He knew very well how much influence he had and between the two Russians, it was impossible to win.

"Yes," I whispered back through the tears and he hugged me in relief, smiling but I couldn't return any of the gestures because they weren't meant for me. Maybe someday he would smile at me because he actually wanted to and not to keep up his adorable image. I actually pushed him away gently and he pouted at me, looking rejected for the first time in his life probably. I didn't need this. He would have to try harder because I was really done with these bastards after today.

The door opened to reveal Thresh followed by Rue and now that they were both in the same room, the contrast was even greater. There was something there though, a connection with the way he ruffled her hair and she held on to his t-shirt, and how he grinned at her and called her names. There was something there that I didn't have with any of my siblings. There was something there that Cato and Marvel didn't have though they insisted they were 'brothers'. It was pure, innocent, unconditional love.

Marvel moved off from the bed at the same time that Rue flew over to give him a hug, her face squishing into his stomach because of her small frame. He chuckled, hugging her back while Thresh stared at me in silence with his knowing dark eyes.

"He did it again, didn't he? Lemme check it out," he grunted in a matter-a-fact tone, looking away from me and stepping closer to Marvel who smiled at him in appreciation. I gaped at how fast he figured it out and how calm he seemed. Was this a normal event? Everyone here seemed to have an emergency plan set. I seemed to be the only one out of place, like always. Suddenly I felt as if my reaction was weird but I couldn't think of it differently because it was abuse and I had grown up with it. It was unacceptable.

"Step aside, rooster," he mentioned, dragging little Rue away from where she was clinging to Marvel's body and hoisting her up in his arms. I couldn't believe she was a freshman; she seemed like a child, clinging to her brother's neck and looking at Marvel's bloody face in worry.

Thresh's unoccupied hand moved to push aside Marvel's bangs so he could inspect the wound. The injured boy seemed completely lax at the other's touch going as far as to inch his head sideways to allow more light to fall on his angelic features for better inspection. I saw Rue gasp while Thresh hissed.

"How bad, Thresh?" Marvel mumbled, looking at him with concerned eyes that looked up in fear for the first time. So he trusted Thresh's opinion but not mine.

"Not too bad. Like a three maybe. I'm sure he's worst though. I'll patch you up after I calm him down," Thresh murmured settling Rue on the floor and heading towards the door. I was shocked at the way Thresh handled the situation. He had been the one threatening Cato during their little brawl. He had been the one who mentioned it to break the other boy. But now when push had come to shove, he was protecting the blonde's secret, helping Marvel, alongside the rest of the mafia children, to keep this hidden.

I understood then for the first time that there was a bond there that couldn't be easily broken. This was much more than a friend circle or a gang. These were children who stayed together because they knew nobody else who had not been through their lives could understand the choices they had to make. They had to protect each other not because their parents worked together because I doubt their parents cared about anything but themselves, but because they knew that it was the only way they could stay safe as a minority in a school where everyone knew what they were and wanted to knock them down as much as I did. No matter how many times they fought, they would always have each other's backs.

They were right on one thing though, I didn't understand. I looked at it through a completely different lens and I couldn't possibly go through the same reactions that they were going through right now. There was no way I would be part of this group and no matter how much I admired them superficially for their light humor and good looks, I would never again look at them the same way, knowing what they had to go through.

"Rue-rue will you get Clove for me?" Marvel asked the young girl who was now trying to drag Molly from under the bed. The dog kept nipping and moving backwards until it finally gave up the fight, crawling into Rue's chest. Thresh had left the room I assumed to join Cato in his misery. He would have been the last person I thought the blonde wanted to see. They hated each other, or at least they hated each other's guts.

"What should I tell her?" she asked, her face falling into the first traces of seriousness I had experienced. I thought about how she was too mature for her age, too used to dealing with these experiences. I wondered if her innocence was a front, if inside her heart she was as affected by the life her parent's lived as the others who displayed it more openly.

"Cato needs her," Marvel instructed moving to kiss the top of Molly's head lovingly before pulling out his phone. Rue nodded, exiting with the dog while he took his place next to me again, sliding down his touch screen to get the function he wanted.

This time I didn't flinch away though. My heart had settled into a normal beat because the way they were handling the situation created a calm atmosphere. Rue was there with her upbeat smile and Marvel had started to actually return back to his easygoing self. I felt safe in my room because though I had just gotten there, the smell of the bed and the softness of the comforters felt familiar.

"What did you say?" Marvel asked after moments of silence where I had started to enjoy the way his warmth was seeping into my side and his even breaths making my eyes drift closed. Whenever I cried I felt sleepy; the sting from the tears somehow transformed into one of exhaustion. I just wanted to skip orientation and curl into my bed. That always seemed to fix the problems because I ended up waking up with a clear mind and a hopeful attitude. I shrugged, trying to avoid the interrogation while knowing it was hopeless.

"It must have been something pretty bad because he doesn't get like that over anything," Marvel kept pondering out loud, trying to get me to join the conversation while pretending to be uninterested. He wanted to show me that he was giving me the chance to express my side because he was certain he would hear Cato's. The only flaw in his plan was assuming he would because he wouldn't. Cato would never tell him if today's reaction was any proof.

"I will tell you his secret if you tell me yours," I drawled, smiling at the way his eyes widened with unrestrained interest. It was worth a try because I knew he wouldn't waver but I liked the way he got overly curious. I could play games too if they were so set on that idea.

"But I don't have _one_," he whined, pouting and I smirked at him in amusement. He had this way of making every situation better. Sitting here, looking at him smile again almost made me think it was worth going through that hell. Almost. But I knew no matter how much I wanted to fool myself and he wanted to fool me, he was still Cato's boy. But maybe not for long because whatever I was doing was definitely putting me in between these two really different personalities.

"I have _one_ too many," he murmured slyly, standing up and moving towards the door. I didn't make an attempt to stop him because we both knew I needed some time. He would go back to Sonny who would shower him in love and I would go back to lying on my bed, alone, because my roommate was busy comforting the enemy. I sighed, crawling in bed and trying to delete the images of today's events flying through my brain.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The phone rang that shrilling sound that I had yet to figure out how to change and I slammed my hand around my bed, trying to find it. When I reached the bastard, I picked it up immediately, smiling at the caller ID.

"Hi, friend," I whispered as Gale chuckled on the other end. He would always be my back up wall. But I would not tell him about Cato and Marvel yet because that was my own little secret for now.

"I don't think we are friends with you not answering my calls and all," he joked on the other side and we fell into our usual banter without much effort. We would never be able to hate each other. We had tried and it hadn't worked out.

Thresh entered the room and before I had time to turn around to face him, he had thrown something in my direction. I flinched as the cloth landed on my lap and I looked down before staring up at him in confusion. He seemed exhausted and I couldn't tell if the intervention had gone well. Gale was repeating something on the other end and I dismissed him quickly, telling him to call back so I could solve the puzzle at hand.

"It's Cato's orientation shirt. He said you needed it," Thresh grunted, shrugging and I looked at the blue sweatshirt in awe. It couldn't be. He actually gave it to me. It must have gone much better than I had thought. The shirt was slightly faded from the many washes and I could tell by the slightly different design that it was ancient, all the way back from four years ago when he had gotten it. On the back it said his last name and I flushed, trying to understand how he expected me to wear it. Everybody would know it wasn't mine. I looked at Thresh for help.

"This umm isn't mine," I stuttered and he gave me an incredulous look from his position on his desk.

"You don't say, roomie? He gave you his because you will probably need his. It's a protective measure. Now, throw it on and stop complaining. You don't even know how many girls would die to have that," he muttered and I gaped before removing my t-shirt and pulling on his oversized hoodie. It felt strange, smelling his cologne on it and looking at the way the sleeves were too long. I felt like a high school girl in her athlete boyfriend's shirt. Shit-wrong metaphor.

"Protective measure?" I asked, trying to push my luck because I was honestly curious to see how an old, worn out sweatshirt would protect me from anything. If anything it would make a target for his rabid fangirls.

"It's tradition. The older students give the new ones their own orientation shirts. It shows that you have allied yourself with existing groups. It warns off possible problems. Rue will be wearing mine; Adri probably has Sonny's. You're lucky. He has only given that to one person here, Clove," he explained and I was in awe. It seemed like such a possessive tradition that could make you or break you.

I was certain that most people could get at least someone in their dorm to lend them a shirt. After all the ratio of new students to returning ones would allow for a lot of options. However, if you were one of the ones who didn't get one, you were automatically a target, a loser, alone in the face of all the cliques that would form, had formed.

I had saved myself in the last minute. Cato had saved me.

"Who has Marvel's?" My brain had asked automatically and I blushed at the knowing look he gave me, shaking his head. I wasn't embarrassed. I wanted to know who would bear that shirt. These things seemed to be significant in determining alliances.

"Marvel never gives his away. Glim, yes but nobody has shared that Solntsevskaya shirt with him. I highly doubt anybody will be wearing it this year," Thresh mumbled, smirking at me because he knew even though I couldn't admit it that I wanted to be the first on to sport it.

I knew Cato's would do the job just fine, probably better than all of them put together because everyone was scared of him. I knew I would be grateful to him for choosing me as only the second person after their best friend, Clove. I knew I would cherish every moment I had with the shirt before he asked for it back.

But…but I wanted the exclusive one. I wanted the one Marvel was forbidding others from having.

"That seems awfully selfish," I drawled and Thresh chuckled, rolling his eyes before turning around and ending the conversation.

"You better hurry. I'll see you for dinner. Maybe if he has given it this year, you can rip it from their body and hold it as a trophy," he teased and I was getting used to having his presence around. I got into my shoes and opened the door, looking back once to see his hunched figure.

"If he has then it's not worth the same thing now, is it?" I asked, not waiting for the response, walking to the hallway where Foxface was waiting with a group of freshman gathered around her. Every one of the Capitol newbies had on a passed-on shirt and I was secretly glancing at the last names to spot the prized one. Rue looked tiny, overflowing in Thresh's gigantic shirt and Adri indeed had Sonny's on. I spotted the other Solntsevskaya shirt on another young girl. That wasn't the one I wanted though, that was Glimmer's.

"Since we are all here, we can head over," Foxface announced and the freshman cheered, moving ahead with me lagging in the back, not half as excited. This would be interesting.

As we got out of the door, the redhead turned towards me with a appalled look and mouthed 'how?' to which I smirked and shrugged, moving the hood on top of my head to make sure the last name on the back was as visible as possible.

I would milk this.


	5. Ace in the Hole

**Chapter 4: Ace in the Hole**

_Peeta's POV (Sunday)_

It was nearing five and I was wondering at what time we would be dismissed. Chapel would be starting soon and I wanted to take a shower before getting dressed. I was certain I reeked of sweat and Cato's cologne at this point from having to play that stupid game of capture the fucking flag. It was way too much. The moment the whistle had blown people were running in all directions, tackling others and screaming like madmen. I had been scared for my life. It was like savages had been released from cages and were fighting through the blazing heat in their hot sweatshirts to reach the other side where the flimsy, ragged-looking flag was situated.

Needless to say, I had been standing to the side next to Foxface and the rest of the student leaders who were attempting to referee the crazies. She had laughed at my reluctance, telling me to get used to it because the game was played so many times in school activities. She had also jabbed at the fact that I should have been invincible with that shirt on, seeing as Cato apparently aced at this game. That didn't come as a surprise. I could see him charging forward towards all the students from the opposing team trying to get through to the flag area, which they called the 'Cornucopia' due to its incline and shape. Shit was crazy; I mean they had a designated field where they played this.

The faculty lined up on the sides, watching the event go on, laughing and cringing at the unnecessary contact. A part of this looked inhumane; it reminded me of gladiator fights in the coliseum. There were so many of us to begin with that it felt impossible to see it end. People kept getting captured in huge amounts before that agile, speedy kid charged to save them all. I moaned in pain every time I saw that happening because we had essentially started over. It was never ending; how did the students still have energy to continue running? It must have been those sugary sweets they provided before we had to play; a table full of all sorts of candy awaited us after the icebreakers, which mind you had been a torture of their own.

I was sitting on the side, grumbling in frustration when the gong was heard and everybody stopped moving to face the interruption. The leaders walked ahead, announcing the end of the game in a tie—about fucking time. Standing up to be at the same level as the rest of the newbies I tried to look through their sweaty bodies to see what they were pointing too.

At the very edge of the field stood all the senior dorm monitors led by none other than Cato and Glimmer, painted in blue and black. The sight was quite shocking. Everyone had on some sort of school gear and most of the monitors had war face-paint on their cheeks. Glimmer was radiant as always, wearing a crop top shirt that revealed her flat stomach and pigtails in her hair, held back by black and blue, plaid ribbons. She looked hot even for my tastes. Cato had on another pinnie and the sky-blue color of it accentuated his gorgeous eyes. He stepped forward to talk to us.

"Newbies! Time to fly the colors. In front of you stand boxes of your first school shirts. Everybody, in as civilized a manner as you can manage, grab one and put it on. We are heading off to war against our rivals," he announced and everybody was cheering like mad, already sprinting ahead to get their hands on a shirt, Adri leading the crew. I was stunned at how they could even comprehend what he meant by that obscure, vague speech. War? Like what the hell did that mean? Coz I wasn't about to play another game of capture the flag. It wasn't fun.

I looked back at the faculty to gauge their response but they were all nodding and smiling, clapping with the others when he finished his little announcement. I had yet to make a move towards the boxes because it looked so crowded in there that it must have been impossible to breathe. Rue came to stand by my side, smiling and I looked down at her before making a face at the chaos.

"This cannot be safe," I muttered and she laughed in glee, nodding.

"It's like a stampede over there. Don't worry, Thresh will get two for us," she quipped, pointing at huge, unmistakable Thresh, throwing shirts around, alongside all the other seniors who were trying hard to avoid the madness of people tackling and crawling to get one. I could see Cato was having the time of his life because he was laughing out loud, flinging the sought-out material all over the place to younger students jumping like wild animals to grab it with their teeth.

"What is this about, anyway?" I asked her because knowing how much she knew already about this school; she had probably experienced it before. I hated how out of the loop I was. It felt as if everyone who had enrolled had been dying to get in and already stalked the school, knowing everything there was to know. It told me that I was the only one feeling the pressure; I was the only one not open-minded enough to adapt. Everyone else could jump into this new life with a huge smile.

"The Hockey scrimmage. It's against Custodes, the rival school. Everyone goes_ nuts_. I think the fans end up killing each other more than the actual players," she giggled and I had thought Marvel said it was 'just a scrimmage'. That did not seem like a big deal. A scrimmage wasn't even part of the school record; it was just a game that players played _for fun_.

This was a huge deal apparently. This was a life or death deal because there were small children crawling through other's legs to get a freaking lame shirt. Either way, I would get to see him play and that was making me excited about the prospects. This was going to be new. Nobody cheered for our teams in my old school; it was unheard of. But here they were getting this riled about over a scrimmage, which made me want to get into a team if just for the spotlight fame. I shook that conceited thought away; I had been having them more often ever since I got here.

I saw Thresh approach us, holding two shirts in his hand as promised and I smiled at him because that's what Rue did and it seemed to be appropriate. He grunted in response, grinning and dropping the shirts in our hands where I felt the material with such eagerness to see what was so special about it. Looking at the still fighting students, I felt as if I had just won the lottery.

I thought Thresh would have been passive about this immature ritual but his face was as colored up as the other's and he was wearing a tight under armor shirt that flexed against his broad chest and advertised the school on its elastic material. If Thresh had altered his mystery daily schedule for this, it must have been big.

Eventually I heard the commotion behind us disappear with that last student grabbing a trampled shirt pathetically and running away. I felt bad for those who had to fight alone. That would have probably been me if it weren't for Thresh. Scratch that, knowing myself; I would have probably not participated. I would have pretended not to care as I looked from the side at everyone who already looked like a community with their matching shirts. I would have already placed myself as far out as I could manage. But this time Thresh and Rue were there and they could pull me to the very centre. As much as I thrashed on the way, the inside was nice.

When everybody had on a shirt, both the boys and the girls not hesitating to strip their hoodies and replace them with the new attire, they faced the leaders again asking for instructions. I had just seen over a hundred chest-hair and bras but nobody seemed to care. On the other hand what they did care about was not having seen mine because I was getting glances, glaring at my unchanged form. I gulped, looking up at Thresh and moving towards his gigantic form, trying to shield myself as I hastily removed the hoodie, displaying my skin before hurriedly covering it again with the lighter shirt. I sighed in relief once at having conformed and no longer being the center of attention and twice because the shirt was better suited for the sunny day. I held the hoodie to my chest in protection as if somebody would rip it out of my hands any minute.

"Go E. L! Go E. L! Go E. L!" the leaders started chanting, immediately joined by everybody else who was jumping up and down, screaming their lungs out. They threw around face paint and the freshman hurried to put some on, helping each other and smudging their faces to imitate the older students. It was fascinating to see the look of awe in their face and the way they hurried to please the seniors, beg for their attention. I remembered looking up to the seniors my freshman year as well. They look mighty big when you are that small and insignificant. And if public school seniors, who smoke and talk about useless things all the time, can manage that look, I was pretty damn sure these guys could. The other leaders were as big as menacing as the Capitol ones, if not more because they were unfamiliar.

"To the hockey-rink!" Cato announced, screaming and I was again reminded of gladiators. This was very strange, almost war-like. I mean we had the general, snobby and proud on top of a ledge, announcing the start of this battle and everybody moving ahead like soldiers, trudging the ground and invading the quad with their massive numbers. Intimidating was the first word that stumbled in my mind before I became aware that this was probably the goal they were trying to achieve. They wanted the rival school to be frightened for the rest of the season. The shock factor would definitely help them win, not to mention the satisfaction of doing the intimidation in the first place. It felt different in a good way to be on this side of the battle, the winning side. I had been on the losing side for way too long.

Before I could get lost in the crowd of moving people, Thresh had grabbed me by the forearm and was dragging me ahead of everyone where all the other leaders where, screaming and wailing like maniacs. I saw Rue situated on his shoulders and she seemed overjoyed at having the best view. She was cheering on as wildly as everybody else, frequently turning towards her brother and muttering 'I can't believe I'm actually witnessing this live'. She was adorable and her spirit was contagious.

The rink was another experience completely. I had gone to an actual hockey game for a professional team and I could see very little difference from where they played and where our team played. It was huge, well furnished with a beautiful ice-rink, cleaned and prepared and the bleachers standing on one side, divided into two sides. I could understand why because the other side was already occupied by another group of students all wearing purple and screaming upon spotting our appearance.

The flags they were holding said "Ludos Custodes" and there was a similar flag for each school hanging from the ceiling of the rink. The middle one, the biggest one, being our school flag, embroidered in the school colors that contrasted magnificently against the bright light of the arena. On the far left side stood a huge screen where they were displaying the fans of the other school who upon spotting themselves, jumped of joy, pointing and waving. They had an actual commentator! Like what the hell? Our hockey rink leaked and reeked and couldn't seat more than fifty students. This was mind-blowing—amazing!

"This…wow…this is expensive," I stuttered out and Thresh chuckled, ruffling my hair. I felt like he was warming up to me and I had to inch closer to his warmth. At least one of them thought I was alright.

"Of course it is. Marvel's daddy paid for it. He's actually here today to see him play. Right…there," Thresh stated smoothly, pointing and I strained my neck to see. The mafia boss of the greatest criminal organization in Russia was with us, in this room, so close just for the sake of seeing a scrimmage game? I had to see!

Unfortunately, the place Thresh was pointing at was a boxy area on the upper floor of the opposite side with tainted windows. It seemed like nobody was inside and my face fell realizing that he was indeed here but would never in his right mind come out in public. I was certain he had built that VIP spot just so he could use it. A part of me felt strange thinking that the mafia leader cared enough to built a playground this big for his son. He actually came out to watch him play. My dad had never seen me out in the field and he wasn't even close to an illegal, sought-out, highly dangerous mafia boss. Ever since I got here, I had found myself wishing he was.

Thresh led me to the bleachers at the very front and from what I could see those were reserved for the seniors. We were only a couple of feet away from where Cato and Glimmer were standing side by side, laughing and sitting everybody else. They seemed to be in friendly terms and I wondered if Marvel had a problem with that. Against my will I had to admit they looked good together, both gorgeously Russian, with their Aryan looks and their fancy accents. I found it interesting to see that his popped out whenever he talked to her because hers was so enunciated. They looked right together; they could have beautiful children.

I wondered why Marvel would be so against that idea. Did he really hate his sister that much? I wouldn't be surprised; I wasn't one of those fools that automatically assumed sibling bonds meant love. I had seen that fail with my family. Yet they were twins, weren't they supposed to have this magical bond, share thoughts, feel each other's pain and all that voodoo bullshit?

His sister had come to see him perform so I guess the waters had calmed after the storm. It was either that or she couldn't have gotten herself out of this—why would she have wanted to? This seemed like the perfect opportunity to advance her fan club that was drooling at her sight and eating off her hand. I had never yet interacted with her, yet I didn't think I would like her. I didn't like people who recognized their own attractiveness. Except for maybe Marvel because he could do it so subtly that he always let you believe he was unaware and that you noticing—commenting on his looks—surprised him into happiness. He was good with people like that.

Nevertheless, no matter how annoyed the twins were at each other, she seemed genuinely thrilled to be there, waving that towel in the front row, and Cato was bouncing off the walls. He had had a complete transformation during his time-out. Apparently they really did know how to push the right buttons and calm him down. Had it been Thresh or Clove I wondered. Had Marvel gone back to him after he left my room?

I wondered if he felt regret towards what happened. I knew I did and I was frantically panicking trying to search for a way to apologize. I didn't have the courage to face him alone again but I knew I had to smooth things out. I had to tell him that I wasn't going to come in between his group anymore. He could have them. I just wanted a little piece of the action all the way from the side. I wasn't a threat. Somehow I wanted him to regret the encounter not only because Marvel got hurt but also because I got hurt. Nobody had come to see me yesterday. It was all about him. Poor Cato hurt his feelings! He was the one that went psycho and fucked it all up. It wasn't fair.

"Cato! Cato, look who I found," I heard a high-pitched voice scream and turned around at the same time as the blonde to see the raven haired girl from the picture, Clove, smiling happily and waving wildly to get the other's attention. She was much shorter than I imagined, petite and jumpy. She was also much prettier in reality especially now that her hair was braided in two pigtails and she was wearing a hockey jersey that was too big for her body. As soon as she saw the blue eyes settle on her, she pointed to her side excitedly where Marvel was standing, fully ready with his black hockey jersey that looked very similar to the one white one Clove was wearing. He had given her his hockey jersey?

I had to gawk because he looked too good. The armor made him look even stronger and the black color made him look fierce, his dark hair glossy and sleek. He had yet to put his helmet on so I could still spot the pure bliss in his face. He was overjoyed, proud, enthusiastic, so many feelings that I had yet to ever feel but now desperately wanted to. He was in his element and he was in front of a huge group of people that were dying to see him play, watch him win. They were screaming for him, holding posters that I could finally decipher because they said the cliché: 'Number 7 on the Ice, Number 1 in my Heart.' I should have guessed Marvel was number 7.

Cato yelped, jumping through the bleachers, not caring enough if he was stomping over other belongings as the two waiting headed for the side, motioning for him to follow. I felt myself move automatically because I wanted to see what would happen between them. I wondered if this was their first interaction since the incident. I had to make sure with my own two eyes that I hadn't ruined it otherwise I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. That's the excuse I gave myself when I wiggled my body through the crowds, cursing every time somebody stepped on me or shoved me into the railings. Animals all of them.

"I'll save your seat, lover-boy," I heard Thresh retort at my retreating back and I grit my teeth to prevent from snapping something back at him. Ah, god. Lover-boy? Can we go back to calling me 'nerd' or 'the quiet one' or 'the new junior'? Anything was better than lover-boy. Besides what did that even mean; nobody really loved me and I didn't love anybody yet, thank god.

I got attached way too quickly. I should have learned my lesson with Gale. I had fallen hard then because he was handsome and sweet and managed to notice my existence. I had not known, had no previous warnings because it had never happened to me before but I had learned my lesson now. I wouldn't allow myself to get that close to people anymore, close enough to risk a fall, at least not without guarantee that they would, could, reciprocate it. I had cried myself to sleep enough times with Gale and though the crying was becoming a usual when dealing with the Russians it wasn't the same. I would never allow it. No more love for me until I was ready to admit my true identity to the world—not my parents—just the general world.

Turning the corner and moving away from the loud buzz of the arena, I noticed that the underside of this place was like a maze, filled with locker rooms and bathrooms and mystery rooms. I would probably get lost and miss the beginning. My only hope was the fact that I could still see them faintly and hear their voices. That is how I found them in one of the rooms, standing next to each other, giggling. I placed myself on the side of the open door where I couldn't really see them but at least they couldn't see me either. I tried to use the only sense I had, my oh-so-amazing hearing to gain some information. I felt like a creep, essentially that is what I was.

"Excited Marvie?" Clove asked and she might have been a tad more excited in actuality than he was. I noticed she had an accent too but it wasn't the same one that Glimmer flaunted. The difference was probably due to the fact that she was from Ukraine instead of Russia and though those two countries had been one and the same as little as sixty years ago, they didn't like to be confused with each other. I wondered how she had met the others; she seemed to have known Cato for quite some time.

"Oh yea. I'm ready to crush spirits—" he chuckled and Clove completed his sentence immediately, giggling. She had the most hilarious giggle I had ever had the honor of experiencing. It couldn't be real; it had to be one of those movie things because it was short, cute and at the same time changed pitch a couple of times. I could see how it could get annoying fairly quickly though, especially if she kept doing it in context of flirting with Marvel. I couldn't tell if it was genuine; they liked playing this 'let's pretend we are married' game.

"Destroy dreams, bruise knees, humiliate people? Yeah, the usual," she murmured and I was surprised at having yet to hear Cato speak. Maybe he had not followed them after all. Maybe he was simply going to the bathroom. And here I was standing outside a locker room and overhearing what could possibly be a couple. Stalker-creepy would be my new level. If he were in the room wouldn't he have invaded the entire space with his loud, demanding voice already? I looked around to see if there was a possibility I would be busted before Clove eased my fears.

"Cato's glaring at me like 'go die bitch—I need my time'. So Imma leave you guys alone. I'll be at the front Marvie. The crazy bitch cheering with no clothes on? That might or might not be me, yes, blow me a kiss at times so I don't seem too desperate, " Clove teased, giggling again and I didn't have time to hear the rest of her speech because I rushed to the closest room so she wouldn't see me overhearing their conversations. I did not want to face the wrath of another one of this gang today. I had already seen two of them growling and that was more than enough.

As I was hiding in the filthy smelling locker room that was probably toxic in nature, I had an epiphany: these things would never smell pleasant. That and I should stop shoving myself in their lives. I always said I was done and then kept finding an excuse to come back, have one more taste of the adrenaline filling confrontations. I liked the living on the edge that they provided. I wondered if the danger aspect was the only reason I was attracted to them. They were good-looking, all of them in different ways, but was that enough? I looked as if I was obsessed with their lifestyle because it seemed different, not common and ritualistic like mine.

I didn't know if I wanted them or their life. And the mere thought of it was shocking because they didn't seem to have one of those action-filled life that was commonly displayed in movies. They were practically normal in the spectrum of normal within this weird school. The only things they did have different seemed to only cause them more trouble. And yet, there was this phenomenon that happened when you were on the outside, looking at the insiders, that somehow prevented you from ever imagining what their lives were really like. It was called 'idolizing' and it blinded your senses.

On my way out I stopped still, partially in the darkness because the conversation had moved out in the hallway. I had been too caught up in my own thoughts to notice and now I had missed the beginning, completely lost on the end. I froze; looking at the two boys through wide eyes and a curiosity far deeper than anything I have had for my classes.

I could see that the tension had risen and my stomach had dropped in response because I was developing alarms when it came to these two and they were ringing insistently, telling me to go suffocate in the room once more. I knew that I wasn't meant to be here but that feeling of misplacement had become ignorable.

I thought the reason why I was there was because I desperately wanted them to be back to their cheerful, playful selves. I had yet to witness one of their debates because last time I was involved and Marvel had controlled himself. Now I got to see bad-boy Marvel and I couldn't deny myself that.

"Marv, please," I heard Cato whine and a shudder went down my spine at the tone because it seemed so heart breaking, like the blonde was actually in pain. But that couldn't be true because I knew for sure Marvel would be the first one by his side if he needed it. So what was happening between them?

"What do you want me to say, Cato? How can anything I say make it better?" Marvel whispered and I could see he was trying hard to avoid those blue orbs. For a good reason too, I had caught a glimpse of them and they had almost drowned me in their despair. I was just an outsider; I didn't even know what this was about and I could still feel how deep the emotions ran. Had I started this? Oops.

My breath caught and my heart stopped momentarily, a sharp pang stabbing through it when I saw the blonde lean in and plant a kiss on top of the cut on Marvel's cheek, which had been nursed with a Band-Aid. Marvel allowed him to finish but I could see without having to touch him that he was jumpy. His eyes had yet to acknowledge the other's presence and I doubt they would no matter how hard Cato tried to insert himself in the other's personal space. It must have been getting hot for him, under all those layers. He probably needed some air to breathe. Cato should really just have moved away from him; what was he trying to accomplish anyway?

"Don't play hard to get," Cato growled, his forehead against the wall he had pushed Marvel in and I crawled back into the darkness more because this seemed private; it seemed intimate. I didn't want to be seeing this; they most likely didn't want me to be seeing this. I should have just stopped torturing myself. Marvel was glaring at the floor, his hands coming up to push Cato back a little and I smirked in satisfaction. That's what you get, you manwhore.

"Don't be difficult, Cato. I'm merely trying to protect your dignity," Marvel snapped back and I flinched at the condescending tone while Cato pulled back, leaning on the wall with one hand while the other moved to his waist. He sneered down at the curly haired boy with an offended look. I had never seen Marvel this mean towards the blonde and it was removing the wool from my eyes. Shit had just gotten real—bad-boy Marvel had emerged. Why was I even this happy about it? He wasn't just the sweetheart. Ironically, the person he was the sweetest too was one of the few people who got to witness his bitter side. I wondered if it was the same with Glimmer. Did they have a love-hate relationship?

I saw Cato take a deep breath and I thought he was about to get aggressive again but he seemed to have learned his lesson the first time around. Instead he pulled the surprised boy to his chest, holding him with one hand that had thread through the curly, onyx locks. I could see, even from my distance that he was shaking. Was he crying? Was he mad?

"And I'm merely trying to apologize. You can't hate me more than I already hate myself; don't try. All I want to do is make it up to you in any way possible," Cato stammered, his face still hiding on the wall behind them so I couldn't see his expression. I could hear the pain in his voice and it made me bite me lip. I saw the hopelessness in Marvel's face loud and clear only because he didn't know I was there; he thought his emotions were safe, hidden.

"I don't hate you, Cato. I've already forgiven you—you know that. You can't forgive yourself and you come here feeling the need to grovel. I won't have that. I have everybody fucking else groveling—it's not what I want! I'm just looking out for you, that's all," the other one uttered and I saw him reach up to hug the other swiftly before pushing him back. The blonde let him detach himself but didn't move away from the wall where he was leaning his forearms on it, his head in the middle. That was his go-to protection when he was crumbling. He tried to hide his emotions by hiding his face. He was very much like a child who hid himself when he felt sad, unprotected. I wanted to run up to him. Why wasn't Marvel doing that? Where was his shield when he needed it the most? Was Cato losing his touch?

"Then what the fuck _do_ you want, Marv?" I heard Cato mutter abrasively the moment he heard Marvel sigh about to move away, "Don't be an asshole when I need you most."

I couldn't tell what in the world was going on. Cato was the one who I felt for and Marvel was the one who I felt appalled by. The tables had turned and I was left doubting everything I ever analyzed about these two. I knew the words had hurt the shorter one though because that was what Cato had meant for them to do. They had been like another slap to the face because Marvel froze in shock, his features contorted in discomfort and his lip bit. The blonde was a brat I decided.

It felt unfair of Cato to be saying that because Marvel seemed to have been standing up for him since day one. On the other hand, he was being distant right now and I wondered why he evaded the contact. He had seemed fine giving it to me. Yes, I admit that did make me feel better and I was confused on when I had become such a tangled person. My feelings were all over the place.

"I'm not trying to, honestly. I'm sorry—" Marvel started saying in worry, turning around to face the blond again and stopping mid-sentence when he noticed the state the other was in, trying hard to stay strong against the only wall in his life at the moment. I knew Marvel would break the attitude he was putting up because if Cato had gotten me to feel bad then he could definitely affect Marvel. He would never lose his touch.

"Shit, Nik, boo I am sorry," here came the resignation and the real name, "I just hate seeing you fall so hard. I don't know how to react to it; how to get you back up faster—I'm lost. All I know is that I like you when you're up there," the black-haired one murmured and I cringed at the nickname. Where they really at that stage yet? I didn't think so. I bet the only reason it even escaped his lips was because he was getting desperate. His back hit the wall and though he didn't make an attempt to physically touch the blonde, his presence was enough to get him to turn around. His face had calmed and his eyes were clear again. He wasn't angry. Had he even been angry before? Was this all a ploy?

They both slid down the wall, sitting side by side silently. I heard Marvel sigh heavily, banging his head against the wall. Cato chuckled for the first time since that encounter before sliding himself down so he laid his blonde head on the other's lap. Marvel rolled his eyes, shaking his head, but settled one of his gloved hands on the others face.

"You're a spoiled baby," he muttered, trying to feign annoyance but I could see the relief shining through his eyes much brighter than any sort of hard feelings he could sport. So this was the kind of comforting Cato got?

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't say that I wasn't jealous because I was. I wanted to be the one on Marvel's lap and I wanted to be the one who got Cato to smile at the same time. It was so selfish of me and it had never happened to me before. I felt like an idiot for having hope and like a jerk for wanting to get all the attention. Attention was toxic, addicting! The moment you had a taste you wanted more, fought harder. It wasn't enough. I had always looked down upon those people before, those people who did the same thing I was doing now, the attention whores. Yet here I was trapped between my impulses and my conscience. It was all no longer in my control.

"I'm sorry I ruined your big day," Cato mumbled but I could tell by his big smile that he wasn't sorry. He would have done it any other day if it meant rolling around in that filthy ground while Marvel stroked his hair in full gear, hiding in the bunkers when hundreds were screaming his name and awaiting his presence outside. But no! They couldn't have him—he was Cato's boy. Cato was the only one that deserved his attention.

I remembered the egotistical Cato once again and I felt like he had moved a step backwards. I did feel bad for him but I couldn't help thinking that maybe just maybe the sorrow was a front. The blonde was a child, a child who had been positively reinforced to continue his tantrums because he got rewarded every time he did. A child who knew the moment his sapphire-blue eyes welled up in tears, others would be petting his hair and kissing his cheeks dry. A child who stomped his feet to get his way.

"My big day hasn't started yet but you will ruin it if you keep me away from my team any longer," Marvel teased, not urging the blonde to move though. He seemed awfully calm for someone who was missing whatever preparation they had to go through. If I thought I was selfish, I felt better because Cato had to be the most self-centered, venal bastard I would ever encounter.

"Kill them," Cato instructed, standing up and pulling the other with him. They hugged each other in that manly, pat-in-the-back kind of way before Marvel jogged away probably to join his team. Cato remained looking at his back, stretching lazily, the silly grin still on his face. I didn't think anything life changing had occurred but somehow it had made things normal for them again. I would never comprehend their relationship let alone come close to mimicking it.

"Why do you like him so much?" I voiced, stepping outside so he could see me and I saw him startle, turning around to face me. His face went through a complex variety of emotions from anger to fury to regret to curiosity to his usual indifference. I clutched the sweatshirt he had given me to my chest possessively. I hadn't noticed I had dragged it around until now. It was as if it had become part of my body. I had been holding on to it ever since I changed into my shirt. His eyes dropped to it, softening before he looked at me again, approaching.

I knew if there was one topic we wanted to avoid that would be Marvel because he was so touchy about it. That was the topic that had gotten us to the boiling point last time. Why was I the fool who brought it up again? Maybe because I wanted to rile him up. Maybe because I couldn't help it, I was hopelessly enamored with the hockey player. Maybe because I wanted to tread this ground and this time do it right, this time try to understand the gears and bearings behind their friendship. It could have been a combination of those but it didn't matter. There was no use in going into detail behind the reasoning because I had said it and like many confessions I had admitted to him, I couldn't take it back.

"Who doesn't like Marvel? Don't tell me you are completely indifferent to him," he snapped, smirking and I knew he was avoiding the question, aiming the gun at me, telling me that if I stepped on his weakness, I should start protecting mine. I knew he was subtly implying my secret and I shrugged because this time I would not be the one to lose control. My emotions were blocked before they had a chance to screw up.

"He's nothing special," I lied through my teeth and he snorted out loud, mocking me.

"No, of course not. What made you think that? Was it the fact that he's beautiful, smart, _great in bed_," he murmured slyly, looking at me through his taunting eyes, his abrasive attitude pushing me back to the corners of my mind. I knew he was playing with me. I had prepared myself for him to rub it off but the last blow—damn, I hadn't been expecting it and my breath hitched. He was lying; he had to be. He was being a bitch about it and it made me furious beyond rationale again.

"I thought we were talking about Marvel, not his sister," I murmured smoothly before I could stop myself. This guy always brought out the worst in me. I wasn't like this really. He was just so damn frustrating and he was trying to purposely make me jealous, trying and succeeding.

"You are a such a jealous, pathetic, little bitch. I should have let you get eaten alive by the hyenas. Give me back my damn shirt!" he snarled, approaching me and I stayed put because he didn't seem as angry as last time. The threat had already gotten stale. I had overused it and I deserved this ugly surprise: he no longer cared. I had revealed my secret weapon too early and he had protected himself. Now all I had was the shirt and it was about to be ripped away from my arms.

"No! I'm sorry!" I quickly retorted, holding the prize closer, my nails practically tearing the fabric apart. It was mine; he couldn't have it.

"Like hell you are. Don't make me fight you for it. It's mine," Cato threatened, his hands already grabbing part of it, pulling it towards himself while glaring at me for my resistance. I stayed put because the fear had caused a different sort of reaction; I didn't want to run away and I didn't want to fight. I just wanted to submit, make it all right again.

"Why did you give it to me in the first place?" I asked, trying to plead with my eyes for his struggle to stop, the fabric moved back and forth between us. I wasn't about to let go though. I needed this. I would rather have it destroyed than back with him. I had fucked up again but as long as I had the shirt, the realization wouldn't hit me because I had a piece of him. I had an object that he had given to me under good intentions. I had to believe he cared.

"Because I am an idiot. Give it back, seriously! You don't deserve it," he stated sternly and the anger had yet to enter his eyes. He was just annoyed again.

"I know I don't but let me keep it. I really am sorry. Let me prove it to you," I whispered and this stopped his actions. He released his deathly hold but didn't move away from touching the soft fabric. I had gained his attention and I had to keep it. He hesitated, confused at my approach and I took my chance to nail the point home.

"Marvel gave you a chance," I murmured and he froze at the realization that I had heard their entire encounter. I could see he was trying to play it back in his mind, ensure that he hadn't revealed anything too important. I saw him shift his eyes towards me and a flash of sadness passed through them. I bit my lip to avoid looking away. He didn't like when I used Marvel as anything. If he would have it his way, he would have forbid me from ever mentioning the star in front of him.

"Whatever," he muttered after the silence, brushing past me, abandoning the shirt in my hands. He looked resigned in the last glance I managed to steal before he moved away, setting up his walls of protection. His shoulders had slumped and his eyes grazed the floors. I couldn't tell what had changed his mood but I knew it was I who ruined all the work Marvel did to see his smile. If Marvel was his shining light, I was his black hole. I didn't want to be. It just happened. We were opposites and I couldn't help dampening his mood. It happened automatically when I was satisfied or so I wanted to think. I had to prevent the guilt from entering too deep in my thoughts.

I forced myself to not care about anything at the moment because he had let me keep it! No matter how much he would deny it, progress had been made. He had faith; he would come for it again. It wasn't the end. Unless he had completely decided to forget about it, decided that the cost wasn't worth the benefit. I wondered if he had given up on his shirt permanently. That thought made me feel bad about myself again. This was probably the reason I didn't have many friends. I sucked at warming up to them; I always seemed to say the wrong thing.

Besides this old sweatshirt was just one of many to him. He didn't need it. It probably rotted in the bottom of his drawer, eaten alive by moths. He didn't need it. He never would. For me this shirt meant survival. It meant air. It meant protection. So even if he didn't ever want to talk to me again, I would at least have this and everybody would think he liked me like he adored Marvel, he hugged me like he embraced Adri and he took me with him like he did with Edan.

I turned around to gape at his retreating form before I willed my feet to follow him slow enough to never catch up but fast enough to not get lost. I had a game to see. I wouldn't let him ruin that chance for me because Marvel could be my shining light too and unfortunately for him, he got me as happy as he got the rest of them.

I stepped back next to Thresh and he looked at me before shaking his head in pity. I shrugged, pretending not to care. Cato was back next to Glimmer and now Clove was standing with them as well, jumping up and down in her overflowing jersey. The lights had started flickering and I looked away from the threesome before I could burn their backs with my glare. The announcer started talking and my breath hitched because I felt like I was experiencing a once in a lifetime scenario, the rest of the screams confirming my belief.

"Boys and girls, welcome to the annual rival scrimmage match! On the right side, with a 6-4 record last year, the Ludos Custodes Tracker-Jackers!" he announced and the doors burst open, the purple skaters gliding out in the field while the other school went crazy. Their mascot I realized was this gigantic, wasp-looking thing and I had to laugh at how ridiculous it looked dancing around to get the cheers going. Giant insect-bug-man shaking his ass was unforgettable.

The other team's players were big compared to Marvel and Sonny, the only two I had had the pleasure of meeting from our team. They were tall and bulky, skidding through the ice with a puck before two of them, the captains I assumed from the CC on their sleeve, stopped in front of us, banging on the glass annoyingly. This caused the seniors to rise on their feet and 'boo', screaming in disdain at the mocking. Cato had blurted out a string of colorful words by this point and Glimmer was insulting them in Russian, probably to avoid the stern look the teachers were giving Cato. Clove, little Clove was trying to calm them down; nothing could really dampen her mood. It was probably because she had that jersey.

"On the left side, give it up for the home team with a 8-2 record last year, the Esurio Ludos Mockingjays!" the announcer tried to swiftly say before the argument between the team and the fans escalated. I could see this would be a brutal game. It was just the beginning and Cato was already on his feet.

Why were the names so weird? Like why couldn't we be normal animals like sharks or bears or mosquitos? If I thought the other school's mascot was suffering with his gigantic head and crumpled wings, I had yet to see ours, dressed up as some sort of white bird with a interesting tail. And that is exactly why you go for bears or tigers—can't fuck up there.

Even with the failure of a mascot, dancing around crazily, the crowd was not deterred and they were all up on their feet when the players broke the doors and entered the ice in their black and sky-blue outfits. They circled around three times, waving before they assumed their positions. I was about to be disappointed at not having spotted Marvel before he and Sonny appeared right in front of the separating glass making the crowd go wild. I hadn't known he was a captain but I guess I should have assumed. Clove was screeching, waving at them, and Cato was close to approaching the screen before Haymitch gave him a stern look to keep him put. When had Haymitch made an appearance?

I had smiled at them, hoping that by some chance they could spot me in the middle of that crazy crowd; I wasn't that far away but I was one in many who wanted to get their attention. They didn't stick around for long because I could see their coach, wearing the usual formal outfit, screaming at motioning for them to 'quit it' and get back to the others who had started the practice. The coach seemed like a thief of joy.

"Here is the layout," the commentator, I had named him Bob because that's what he sounded like, mentioned and the screen transformed into a diagram showing the team setup in all the different positions. Every player had a picture and the stats next to the circle that was supposed to signify where they operated. My eyes had no trouble locating Marvel at center forward, grinning in his picture, still quite blonde. Wow, I was starting to forget his natural hair color. I wondered when the black would wash off. I liked the black; it looked sexy. We had enough blondes anyway, myself included.

Sonny surprisingly played goalie and his picture looked as funny as he acted in real life. I wondered how somebody like him could handle the stress of the goalie position. I had heard it was rough on the nerves because they didn't switch you out much and you practically were to blame if your team lost. The referee called for the captains at the same time that Cato turned around screaming for Thresh who nodded. I was about to ask what it was about when the chant started. I had heard that many colleges used them but I had never seen one in real life and it was exhilarating.

"I!" Cato screamed; I was certain he would lose his voice today. He was perfect for the job though. He could make his voice so booming it was abnormal. His attitude aslo scared you into obeying-mandatory fun with him all the way.

"I!" Everybody else replied and I was starting to see a trend.

"I believe!" He screamed back and I looked sideways to see the sulky faces of the other team. There was a clear divide between them and us and being part of us meant I was part of something. I felt like I was in a community and it felt good so that is why I joined.

"I believe!" we all replied back. I had heard this before. It was the USU 'Believe' chant. That explained the posters that said 'Believe' on them and here I was thinking they were all deep and motivational.

"I believe that we!" Cato called out. Glimmer and Clove were standing up so naturally everybody else who wasn't on their feet followed them. They were not screaming with Cato however. I guess unlike the normal high schools that had cheerleaders in skimpy outfits, here they had a person that started the cheers, somebody with balls and volume.

"I believe that we!" we all mimicked back and I only had the chance to look at Thresh's smirking face once before the chaos started. Rue had murmured 'here it comes'.

"I believe that we will win!" Cato had time to say once before the rest of the crowd starting jumping up and down simultaneously to the same beat, repeating the same statement over and over again. The entire bleachers were shaking at the impact and I was horrified for a second before I could will my feet to follow them. Haymitch shook his head smiling while the students kept going on. The screen showed a close up of Marvel, settling in the starting position and blowing everyone a kiss, breaking the cheer and sending everyone into applause and random screaming again.

The whistle was heard and the commentator started rambling full speed to the impact. If I knew what this game was about I would be able to comprehend the situation more but all I knew was to say 'oh!' when somebody was slammed against the glass or when the smacking sound of sticks clacking happened. It was a very loud game this one.

The players distracted me because they were moving around so fast and I didn't know whether to look at the ice or the screen. It was all very new. The puck was almost as hard to follow as the snitch in Quidditch because it kept slamming for side to side, never stopping, bouncing off the walls, through their legs. Looking at the crowd, I could see Clove hanging off the railing to the bleacher area, completely focused on the game while Glimmer spaced out only rejoining our world when she heard the others scream. Typical blondie who had not the slightest clue of sports. But then again look at me, the pot calling the kettle black. Cato was busy arguing with Haymitch who kept trying to push him back in his spot. Wasn't he close enough in the front row?

"Once, come on! You think it's funny too! Just once I swear!" he kept repeating over and over again eventually convincing the older male to let him through. Haymitch was too much of a pushover. That or he was too much of a child, laughing along at Cato's immature pranks.

"Check this out," Thresh pointed to me and I could see from his tone he was amused. If I hadn't been already following the blonde constantly, I would definitely pay attention now.

Cato moved up to the plastic-glass division, slamming on the material and screaming Marvel's name. What? That seemed awfully distracting and by the look of anger on the coach's face I knew he was furious at the events. He was wildly motioning for somebody to remove the blonde and Haymitch was pretending he couldn't hear and he wasn't noticing. This was exactly why you couldn't put somebody as chill as Haymitch with a dorm head as crazy as Cato. Disaster awaited.

I noticed our side had started screaming again and I didn't understand what they were saying until everybody managed to get themselves synchronized in one voice. They were chanting 'sandwich' and I was lost or deaf. Probably the latter because it made more sense.

It was only after I saw the two players skid towards the side that Cato was occupying that I noticed what was about to happen. It didn't take a genius and I found it amazing that they could keep fooling the players into this because it seemed predictable. As soon as they reached the spot, Marvel slammed the other on the glass while Cato simultaneously jumped against it on the other side. I laughed because it was funny. They were assholes and such bullies if they wanted to be. But I mean if it didn't happen to you, it was funny to watch. Our crowd cheered on while the other crowd booed screaming 'you can't do that' and 'that's not allowed'. The referee blew the whistle as the abused boy pushed the giggling Marvel aside.

"Yeah boy!" Cato screamed, grinning while Haymitch dragged him back to the seats as the other crowd started chanting, following Marvel's trip to the box of punishment. I didn't know what that was called but it was funny to see him locked there behind the glass while his coach was bursting a blood vessel.

"That's what you get! That's what you get!" they kept screaming and I could see that nobody really cared about their taunts because the sandwich was being played over and over again on the big screen and even the commentator was laughing, trying to get his words in between the stifling of his amusement.

Overall it was those moments that made it special. They scored after and we scored the next five, three of them by Marvel. The crowd had gone nuts; Clove was indeed in her bra and jeans, the number seven painted on her stomach. Glimmer was screeching and Cato was going insane, laughing and jumping, trying uselessly to get past Haymitch again. I could see everyone was in a good mood and that put a smile on my face.

For the first time, I hadn't thought about home. I hadn't thought about how much I hated my parents, or the dorm or my life. I had looked at the way Marvel skidded on his knees when he scored and the way Sonny toppled over him alongside the other players. I had seen the way his friends had been genuinely happy for him, celebrating his achievement. I had been appalled when Clove had stripped of her clothes screaming for Marvel to 'marry her' when he waved at her, making all the other girls jealous, the ones with the posters. I had been scared at the intensity behind Cato's chants during the second goal. The commentator had said something along the lines of 'hit them with that double barrel'. Overall it had been slightly life changing and though I would never admit it, I had had fun, yelling alongside the mafia children.

Bad-boy Marvel had made another appearance and at that moment I had wanted to tear my shirt of for him too because he was too cool. It had been when a grapple had started, landing Marvel and the team captain of the other squad in the boxes. They had been flying across the floor on their buts and stomachs, screaming at each other and being held back by their teammates. Though I hadn't been clear on the events that led to it, Thresh had muttered 'get real' while Cato had screamed 'at least try to cheat subtly' which had earned him a slap in the back of the head from Haymitch who didn't seem too happy at the situation either, scratching his neck at scowling at the referee call. Glimmer had flung a couple of Russian words and I was fairly certain by now that 'suka' means bitch. You learned something new every day.

During that time frame they had managed to score another goal and the sore losers that were the other fans had screamed insults at Sonny who somehow they knew was the goalkeeper. They had booed at him, making inappropriate hand-signs in an attempt to get his self-confidence down. I thought that had been low. They hadn't shown any sportsmanship and it was frustrating that our cheers could not drown their bitterness.

Marvel had come in to save the day, hoisting himself up on the glass of the box in a way that I had never seen anybody do and facing the crowd despite the calls from the coach for him to settle down because it was dangerous. He was dangling, removing his helmet and glaring at the opposing team. They deserved much more than that.

"Hey Cato!" he had yelled, getting the attention of the blonde and effectively shushing the crowd so they could hear him speak.

"Is that not the scoreboard?" he had asked, pouting and looking confused, his green eyes twinkling evilly. I had cocked my head in bewilderment while Cato had smirked and Clove had given him the most viciously sadistic look I had seen her wear. She was indeed a firecracker and I didn't want to go against her because she had the energy to outrun anybody and the courage to do just about anything.

"Yes that is the scoreboard!" Cato screamed back alongside Clove and Glimmer who had stood up all leaning against the railing to get as close to him as possible. I had heard of this before, the chant. It seemed too harsh though. There would be a need for aloe vera after this because 'burn'...

"Is that not a five?" Marvel asked smiling as the rest of the people behind me stood up, pointing at the scoreboard and yelling back "Yes that is a five!"

"Is that not a two?" He continued and by now the coach had given up on trying to get him down. Sonny had saluted him in respect and the other players had stopped playing for a millisecond to be surprised. The other captain, sitting on the other box, had placed his head in his hands. I would feel bad if he hadn't been an asswipe. The referees were looking back and forth between each other, trying to assess if the problem was big enough to stop the game for.

"Yes that is a two!" The crowd continued and though I was standing, I hadn't spoken yet. I was just staring at him all sweaty glory with his wet curls blocking the sight of his green eyes as he united the school.

"Are we not the _winning_ team?" he had asked, staring angrily at the other side of the bleachers that had fallen silent, their mouths either snapped shut or gaping open. They were cornered and no matter how hard the other leader was trying to think of a comeback he couldn't.

"Yes you are the winning team!" our group replied back placing that smile back on his face, pointing at him.

"That means they're…the _losing team_?" he asked, scrunching his face in mock perplexity and I chuckled, never looking away from him hoping that he would make eye contact with me because up until now his eyes had been jumping around from the back where the freshman were to the front were Cato and Clove had situated themselves.

"Yes they are the losing team!" Our side screamed, pointing at the other bleachers that had on top disappointed, angry faces. This seemed mean but I couldn't be the one to care if Haymitch was shrugging and smirking.

If I had thought this had been bad I was unprepared for what came next because the crowd kept going back and forth pointing on both sides of the rink and chanting repeatedly 'Winning team! Losing team! Wining team! Losing team!' as if trying to childishly distinguish a well-known fact.

Marvel had sat there on top of the world, listening to them and grinning innocently for the other side to see. I approached the other three because I knew he would be heading back soon and I wanted to make an appearance. Seeing him do whatever he wanted gave me the courage to stop listening to my scared thoughts and just fuck it.

When I had pushed my body to the very front, shoving the other three aside, fighting my way to the railing I had heard how pissed off they were before they startled, seeing it was I. Cato had muttered 'what the fuck?' while Clove had said 'alrighty then, jerk'. Glimmer had made me laugh because she had been genuinely confused, pursuing her lips and muttering 'and who is this now?'.

I had paid no attention because the stunned look on Marvel's face was gold. I smiled at him slyly and he had chuckled still surprised. I could feel Cato growling behind me and it was that feeling he displayed of being cheated out of this deserved privilege that drove the spirit of rebellion inside me. He thought I was weak and it was fun to see that assumption backfire on him.

I raised my hands and made one of those stupid hearts with my fingers I had seen teens make on the Internet. It was so fucking cheesy that I had to laugh at my own idiocy but Marvel laughed along with me. His eyes never left mine, not even to waver slightly sideways at the angry titans behind me about to stab me to death. As he slid down from his position on top of the box, he smashed his lips on the glass in a kissy face. My cheeks blazed on fire and I chuckled nervously while Clove giggled behind me in that weird sound of hers. That made me blush further because I felt like everyone's attention was on me. If I had gotten the mean look from all of Cato's fan club for the sweatshirt, I was getting the murderous glare from Marvel's for this show.

When he pulled back from smooching the glass he winked at me before he put on his helmet again and got let out, gliding in the ice paying no notice to the way I had frozen in spot, my fingers clutching the railing. Why did he keep doing that, giving everyone what they wanted to see? _How_ did he keep doing that?

"You have three seconds to remove yourself from my presence," Cato threatened behind me, whispering in my ear and I startled awake, swiftly moving past the crowd to my original spot. I didn't want a fight. I had gotten what I wanted. They could have the rest. They could keep screaming their lungs out and freezing their asses of naked right next to the ice.

"Leave it up to you to steal Cato's spotlight," Thresh muttered, looking down at me while Rue giggled on top of his shoulders, extending her hand for a high-five, which I gladly provided. As twitter-fans would say in a very eloquent way: 'hashtag, winning!'

Cato turned to glare at me again and I blinked my eyes rapidly in an innocent fashion, shrugging at him. He wasn't amused and when I saw he wasn't going to stop until he made me feel uncomfortable, I grasped his shirt which I had laid down on the bench and put it on, breaking the eye contact as my eyes saw the darkness of the inside. When my head popped out of the gap, he was staring at me in annoyance, rolling his eyes but at least the anger had fallen. My new shield worked wonders.

I smiled at him amused before giving him another one of my famous hand messages, doing the corny heart, pointing at him and giving him a peace sign. I was hoping he got 'I love you too' out of that but I could see he was incredulous at my boldness if not completely lost.

I pouted when he didn't react and he flipped me the bird, smirking before turning around and staring at the game. Clove started clinging to his shirt, Glimmer trying to compete with her stepping closer.

I didn't stare at them for too long because frankly I didn't care at the moment. I was happy. I would cherish that because god knows I had deserved it after the last few days.

I didn't know how long it was going to last or if this was the calm before the storm but I would have time to think of that later.

My phone was vibrating in the back pocket of my pants but I ignored it because the game had ended and Marvel was in front of us, pushed up against the glass by his teammates who were raising him off the ice as Cato and the other two girls pushed on the other side, screaming and jumping, followed by the mass of people piling up against them in a gigantic mosh pit, divided by the flimsily glass that shook back and forth.

We won that day.

I won and that was all that mattered.


	6. Adding Insult to Injury

**Chapter 5: Adding Insult to Injury**

_Peeta's POV (Monday)_

As I started walking outside of the main gym, which was where the commencement speech was given wishing us luck for the upcoming year, it took less than five seconds to spot the commotion. I found it amusing to note that no matter how many people were around, the hundreds treading the main quad to go to their first classes, you could always see the mafia kids because they were loud and attention grabbing.

How did they have the energy to be fooling around the first day of school at seven a.m. in the morning? How could Marvel even function at this point? I was surprised he wasn't dead because I had heard until how late they had celebrated last night. They had walked to the dorm, chanting all the way before gathering at the hockey players' room and blasting music until the early hours of the morning. If they weren't sleeping, nobody would be after their trashy music filtered through the thin walls. Clove had joined the fest while Glimmer had gone back to her room, obviously having had enough of her twin brother to last her a year. I was curious to see when the next occasion they were on friendly terms would present itself.

Though, I found it adorable that they had matched today. They had probably done it to please their father who, I had been told, was there during the ceremony. I didn't see him per se but that didn't mean anything when it came to the Mafia. He was apparently solving some board problems, a fact which made me feel better about my life because it meant he had not simply flown over from Moscow to see his senior children.

When I had seen them come in, reluctantly sitting next to each other, it had reminded me of those pictures of them when they were young, hanging above Cato's bed. I always wondered why the matching thing broke off when twins grew up. It was probably because they developed different styles, found an identity. It must be interesting to have a twin, have to share everything with the other: birthday, clothes, parents' attention. I wondered if that was the reason Glimmer got upset; Marvel seemed to always steal the attention without even meaning too. Must have been hard having to grow up under that shadow. But then again, what would I know about attention? My parents insisted on concentrating it on my brothers. I should have stayed with my mother but it didn't seem like an option after they charged her with child-abuse and negligence. I guess my controlling stepmother was a step up from that.

I broke my dark thoughts to look at the twins again because somehow their beauty rattled my brain enough to outshine everything else. I had to thank them from that; they had saved me from a lot of sleepless nights. Marvel was wearing a pair of salmon-colored pants, probably Vineyard Vines—judging by the way they screamed I'm drowning in preppy—with a white button-down tucked inside them. Glimmer on the other hand had on a structured dress of the same color with a white, silky scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. They looked like models for that brand because they had this doll-like splendor that stunned you into staring.

We had been cursed to wear formal attire to welcome the school year and we couldn't change back until the end of the day. I knew it was stupid to complain about the formalwear when the school had absolutely no dress code every other day of the year. Technically, you could roll in class with your pajamas and not face any consequences. I didn't know if Marvel or Cato would benefit more from that privilege. I knew I wouldn't be able to. I couldn't get over the fear of not being presentable in front of my judgmental classmates. The trick was to get lost in that middle area, where the mass was. Don't drop too low where the bums were and don't climb to high where the preps were. In the middle area you couldn't stand out; I didn't want to anyway.

The morning had been uneventful. I had woken up around seven, taking Marvel's advice, to find that nobody had wanted to shower that early. I doubt any of the gang would even be awake at that point. Even Thresh had stumbled out of bed after I had started to find my clothes, towel around my waist. I had groaned, pulling out my khakis and blazer, trying to play it simple because there was no use in attracting unnecessary attention. If I had Marvel's looks maybe I would be able to pull off pink pants too. Why must he always look good?

Speaking of the devil, he was the center of the group gathering on the side—the only group not rushing to classes. I spotted Cato in his manly glory with his black, Armani suit and Clove in a short, tight ruby-red dress. She looked curvy, much different from the image I had of her in Marvel's jersey. I realized, my eyes raking her body and the way Marvel had her arm wrapped around small waist, resting on her plump ass, that if Glimmer was beautiful, Clove was hot.

Their position made me frown because I had hoped that he—wow this was hard to admit even inside my own mind. I had hoped he was into boys, well me in specific. I wondered if I had miscalculated but I was certain Clove couldn't be his girlfriend; I would have known by now. Somebody would have mentioned it. She would have punched me in the face instead of giggling when I openly flirted with her boyfriend yesterday. Was she amused at the faggot's hopeless attempts? Was Marvel being nice, awkwardly wanting for me to get the message already? Was I the laughing stock of the group?

My throat tightened and my mouth went dry because I was psyching myself out. Why did I always make sure my self-confidence plummeted when I needed it the most? I had been fine yesterday. I had been one of them; I had showed them up even. Yet, it had lasted until I had showered that night, hearing them scream and shout random sentences in Russian that I couldn't begin to possibly understand. The water had washed away my undeserved privileges and I was left, drowned in loneliness, hoping pathetically for somebody to come in so I could be noticed. If myself when I first came here had heard my thoughts he would have been horrified. What had changed? I was still paranoid about naked, communal showers and disgusted by the state of said places. But now I had transformed in one of those creepy people I feared because now I hoped that Marvel ended up naked in the shower with me.

I was probably just getting restless. I was a hormonal teenager and the extra stress was not helping the matter. I hadn't released the tension down there in a while and it was building to new heights. I had not been in the right mood the last week I was home because my room was all packed up and it reminded me of how my parents betrayed me, forced me into something else against my will. I had found the miracle that was gay porn only in this last year because before that I refused to admit to myself that it wasn't working, that I wasn't like the rest of them. I had insisted on forcefully making myself climax to the sight of naked chicks with fake breasts and filthy mouths. It ended up making me disgusted at my inability to fully enjoy what Gale found 'fuckin hot'. He had offered to have some sort of jacking off session and I had immediately refused, staring at him in horror because I knew what he was suggesting. It would be him jerking off to the actual porn and me jerking off to him jerking off. It was humiliating. We had never touched on the topic again.

"Stop it, you assholes! This is hazing," the smooth voice of Marvel complaining pulled me out of my embarrassing thoughts and I saw him pushing away from Cato who had taken up a position behind him, stopping him from escaping and Clove who was clinging on his sleeve, yanking it violently while holding what seemed to be the object of his fear, a lipstick.

"Come on, Marvie. It's funny, I swear. Please, for me!" Clove pleaded, giggling and approaching the reluctant curly-haired boy further while Cato chuckled, holding him still, arms wrapped around his torso. I loved how she assumed that he would do anything for her. I especially loved how I cared. I slowed down and pretended to check out if I had everything in my backpack to buy some time. I needed to see what was happening.

"But my teachers—?" Marvel protested lightly, biting his lip in what I knew was his thinking habit. Cato scoffed at that comment, grabbing the shorter's hair and yanking his head back in what looked like a painful action. The raven hissed, elbowing him lightly on the stomach and cursing something that sounded like 'bitch'.

"Will you be a pussy, now? Is little Marv scared of judgment?" Cato whispered in his ear, mimicking a baby voice and causing the other to stiffen, rolling his eyes. They were pressuring him into doing something he didn't want to do. I wanted to speak up and get him our of there but that hero attitude would get me killed. So instead, I stood silent and gave him what I hoped was an understanding look when his eyes roamed the remaining few students ambling in the quad and landed on me. He had smiled, causing my heart to flutter and Clove to turn around.

I looked down, blushing when her cunning, hazel eyes reached mine. She chuckled and I saw her nod towards Cato before turning around to address me. Cato and Clove, the hounds from hell sent forth to torture poor Marvel, my angel.

"Hey blondie! Yeah you. The cornball that likes to make hearts. Come over here," Clove screamed and I flushed, my hands shaking inside my bag. I didn't know what to do. A part of me liked that I got to be involved, part of the circle; the other part remembered how badly my last experiences there had ended.

"Yeah, blondie, come give us your humble opinion on this very important matter," Cato joined, jeering at me and I looked up to lightly glare at him. Clove scared me but Cato I could learn to handle though today I didn't have my baby blankie in form of his hoodie there to keep me together.

"Let him be, guys," Marvel groaned, looking away from my scared, blue eyes in order to remove their attention. He was giving me some time to escape and yet here I was, walking towards my pain. This school had turned me masochistic.

I had to save Marvel; my intentions were honorable.

"Hush, Marv. He likes us; he's coming," Cato muttered against his cheek, one of his hands still in the other's hair. Clove stretched out her hand and though I didn't take it she placed it around my waist to pull me forward until I was standing very close to the two other boys. I stuttered, confused, staring at Cato's baby-blues.

"Blondie, tell Marvel here to stop being a vagina," Cato retorted in his gruff voice and I flinched at his terms, pursing my lips in silence, displaying to them my reluctance to be part of any stupid plan they had. Then why had I gone there in the first place?

"Jesus, fine! Fine. Go for it. Knock yourselves out. Kids," Marvel blurted before Clove had time to speak again and a part of me sighed in relief at not having to hear her jab but the other part, the physical part frowned at Marvel for giving in. He always let Cato have his way.

"Oh yay! Awesome, babe," Clove chirped happily, jumping up and down and grinning like a wild cat. She completely forgot me, the new toy, to return to her previous one. She pulled out her bright red lipstick again and I cocked my head sideways when she approached the other boy. This was going to be bad.

Cato's hand released the grip on his hair, instead gently going to remove Marvel's bangs, revealing his forehead. He looked thrilled, giving Clove a nod before looking sideways at my shocked face and smirking lightly. Marvel kept his eyes down, pouting slightly and crossing his arms. It was clear he was trying to be upset at not having gotten his way but by the way he was failing, I knew he secretly wanted them to win. He had fought for the pride aspect.

Clove reached to rest her left hand on his face, grabbing his jaw and holding it straight while her right hand drew a red, hour-glass shape in the middle of his forehead. What the hell was this about? What did that even mean? How was that funny?

As Clove pulled away, she giggled, putting the top on the lipstick and observing her work with pursed lips. Cato moved to the front, grinning and ruffling Clove's hair affectionately. I was standing there on the side, feeling awkward, confused and out of the loop. Why must they insist on letting me stand there to witness their inside jokes? I was tired of not making my presence known.

"What is it?" I asked curiously, looking at the two triangles on his forehead, gleaming blood red at the sun. This fascinated me. Cato and Clove laughed at my question while Marvel furrowed his forehead and I was scared that the design would ruin but it was safe. It would probably be there for the rest of the day.

"Yeah, Marvel, what _is_ it? Tell blondie over here why you are marked," Cato teased, reaching to grab the other's face and force him to face me. He was in an aggressive mood today and Marvel was being passive about it, further egging him on.

"Fuck you, guys. Go to hell," Marvel muttered under his breath, pushing himself away from the group, grabbing my forearm and pulling me away from where they were still giggling evilly. I was shaken but my feet followed him only stopping to detach myself, running to get my bag and back to his side.

"What did they do to you?" I murmured as we walked across the gigantic quad. I was frantically looking at all the buildings, trying to remember where everything was. I had English first but had no idea how to get to my classroom. Looking at how empty the campus was I knew I would be late. Great. Everybody in the room would be sitting, ready to stare at me as I opened the door to come in. Talk about the display of the month, blushed and sweaty new kid who had been running around school shows up twenty minutes in.

"It's better that you don't know," Marvel stated back, smiling slyly. He was making me more curious.

He stopped walking and I stopped after him, waiting for instructions but he merely turned around, leaning in, one of his hands moving to rest on the small of my back. I froze in the spot and my breath hitched, my eyes widening. He didn't pull me forward; he just stood there, his touch hot and his lips plump. We were in the middle of the quad, an empty quad, but the quad nonetheless. His hand slid down my back and I made a noise of discomfort, trying to get him to stop but he went further down, ignoring the way my breath was coming in shallow and ragged, until it was fully resting on my ass, similar to his original position with Clove that morning. I stifled a groan partially from annoyance and partially from approval. I saw his eyes dilate temporarily, shifting back and forth and I was certain mine were doing the same thing. This is what I had been secretly thinking about. Why was he doing it? Why was he so close to—?

I felt his hand slip in the back pocket of my jeans before swiftly pulling out my phone, moving away and dangling it in front of my face. I was still shocked, my face feeling hot and sweaty. He looked at me, smirking, his eyes twinkling in amusement before he leaned to whisper in my ear, placing the lit-up phone in my hands.

"Answer his calls; it's probably something important if he is so insistent," he whispered huskily, chuckling and moving back. My jaw fell on the floor because how had he known? The phone was indeed ringing in my hands, complaining silently with its vibrations. I had tried to mute it incase it rang in class. I must have been so caught in the moment that I hadn't even felt it vibrate against my but. It was still going and I wondered if it started while his hand was there or it had been going since before he decided to make a move for it. That would be the mystery that would decide whether I would make progress after this situation.

"English's that way. Say hi to Cato and Katniss for me. Have fun refereeing their battles," he teased lightly, pointing me to the building closest by, covered in red bricks with a sign over it that said 'Brighton'. I remembered having seen the insides of it during our tour.

I could merely nod back and he chuckled once more, placing one hand in his pocket and one on the strap of his backpack before walking away, strolling at a leisurely pace towards what I knew to be the science building.

I stood there, the sole person in the quad, looking at his retreating back until he disappeared inside the building. Then I placed the phone to my ear, taking his advice. I doubt my mind was ready for any conversation at this point but he had left a message.

I cringed; starting the recording because I knew it couldn't be good. In my life a bad thing followed a good thing; it was in ups and downs. After what just happened, this would be bad—this would be horrible.

"Hey, look, I am getting fucking tired of being this stalker who keeps calling just to hear your stupid voicemail. I know that you're busy with your new life or whatever so that's why I've stopped ringing so many times before, hoping that you would see my name and think 'oh hey my best friend, lemme tell him I'm alive'. Honestly, is that too much to ask for? If you want to be left alone fine, have it your way but at least give me a heads up so I don't sit here like a _fool_, puzzled over what I did wrong! I don't deserve this, Peeta, and you know it. Good luck trying to get one of those bastards to care half this much. Consider yourself alone," he ranted angrily, making my eyes sting before the beep shattered the hopes of calling him back on time.

My hands were shaking when I placed the phone in my back pocket again, stubbornly dragging myself to class because I needed a distraction. I couldn't let myself think there was a way out because all I wanted to do right now was crawl back to the dorm and sob against my pillow. Why did he have to be such an asshole! Why couldn't he understand? I thought he was my friend. Why couldn't he see he was my everything? He was leaving me to face this problem on my own and I didn't know how to possibly do it because he had always been there in the past, guiding me through. Now he left and I was blind as a bat, torn on every side by my own emotions. I had to call him back; I had to make it right. I needed him.

My stiff pace finally got me inside and I looked around confused, about to give up, slide against the wall and place my head in my hands when I heard Cato's voice, saving me from my demise again. He was laughing along with somebody else but I remembered what Marvel had said so I knew as long as I entered that classroom I was in the right place. I wondered how Marvel had known. Had Thresh told them about the course I was taking? Was there a way to do this with every class, check out your future classmates? Had God been merciful enough to let me have Marvel in one of my classes?

I hesitantly knocked on the door before opening it slightly and stepping in. Every eye on the room turned on me, including Cato's breathtaking blue ones. I tried to look solely at the teacher, a tall, buff man in his early 30-s I would guess. He fixed me a glare that made me stop on my way, bowing my head in shame. Cato chuckled further enhancing my misery.

"Zip it, Cato," the man muttered, silencing the blonde and I flinched at his harsh tone, "How nice of you to grace us with your presence."

"I got lost, sir. I'm new—I didn't…" I rambled, shrugging and blushing at the way all the other students strained their necks, analyzing me. It was partially true; I could have been gotten lost if I hadn't stopped to interact with Marvel. The students seemed unconvinced, rolling their eyes and muttering under their breaths.

The thing that fazed me the most was the pale blue eyes of a girl, sitting on the side of the big Harkness table, glaring at the world. Her hair was braided beautifully and she was wearing a silky, blue dress that didn't seem of the latest fashion, making her look even drearier. She had a cloud on top of her head and it was raining, storming probably judging from her annoyed look. I wondered if I had given her a chance to hate me in the past few days but I would soon find out just my presence at Capitol was enough of a reason.

"Of course you did. Name?" The teacher asked sardonically and I was trying to ignore both the girl and Cato, sitting on the opposing end, which was proving to be quite a challenge. I made the mistake of staring at Cato's eyes and he leaned on the table, staring at me in mocking, delivering another blow to my confidence. I loved English; I was good at it but would I be able to get a word out with Cato glaring at me in degradation and dictating the class discussions with his voice?

"Okay then. No name. Find a seat—I would recommend the empty one—so we can start. I am quite tired of hearing lame stories of your summers. Let's face it, I don't care," the man ranted and I hurried to my seat in the middle of two random girls. It wasn't too far away and I thanked god that the empty sit had not been all the way on the other side of the table. I didn't want to offer them another chance to stare.

Upon settling on the wooden chair, I made no attempt to pull out anything, my eyes staring at him like he had three heads because he was so vicious, wow. Did I get the guy who hated his job? Damn. For English too so here go the rest of my literary opinions, thrown out of the window to be replaced by his.

The classroom was clean and well lighted because it had two big windows behind me. I noticed that the students sat around an oval table so we were all facing each other. That tradition was definitely a prep-school thing; you didn't see that in public school—rows all the way. They had told me it was better for debate and discussion. You could look at everybody and it made the classroom more about the students. Right now, it was doing wonders because I could see everyone at the same time from my peripheral as they looked back at me in entertainment. Brilliant invention this one. I just wanted to become invisible. I cringed backwards on my seat, hands in lap, holding my phone, hoping it would ring again but knowing that if it did, I couldn't do anything about it.

"I am Mr. Davidson but if the older students taught you anything last year, a fact which I highly doubt because here you are, willingly volunteering for this torture, I am known as Brutus. Have your creative, literary mind interpret that however you want," he continued, scribbling on the board as he spoke.

He had gigantic biceps and I was certain he had not been a teacher all his life. He was probably a pro-wrestler with that name of his. He was also scary. I took a look around the room to see what my classmates thought. All their expressions bordered fear and awe except for Cato who was smirking and rainy-girl who was scowling. I guess that would never change.

"Here are a couple of pointers. I don't do bullshit. I don't do extensions. I don't do excuses. I don't do afternoon sessions; that was freshman year. I don't do hands—figure out how to take turns like mature adults. I don't do rambling. I don't do Harkness-warriors and I most definitely don't do stupid opinions. Yes, there is such a thing—put that hand down. This is A.P. Lit. Don't waste my time; don't waste your classmates' time. Especially mine though, that's what matters most. Any questions?" he stated, dropping the entire thing on my lap like a set of bricks and I was sure I looked terrified.

Oh, god. I didn't catch all of those and now I would do one of them, making him angry enough to snap my neck with his huge arms. What the hell were Harkness-warriors? Why was the term 'warrior' even used? Could we not do things that related to or that had 'war' as part of their core?

"What_ do_ you do?" the brunette at the end asked sarcastically and I saw the corner of Brutus' eye twitch before he turned around to face her with a plastic smile.

"Killjoy Katniss, what an _honor_ it is to have you again. Please do ask more irrelevant questions. I had not planned anything for today so we gotta waste some time," he replied and I smiled under my breath while the others chuckled. Cato had snorted, smirking at the other girl and I had remembered what Marvel had said. I believe the term had been 'referee their battles'.

"Oh, okay. Here's another one: why is Cato here? He can't really _read_, let alone debate in a civilized manner," she asked and I had to stifle my laughter by biting my lip while some others giggled. Brutus seemed unimpressed, staring at her apathetically before shaking his head.

I turned around to face Cato, expecting to see his snarling face. He had been awfully quiet; he hadn't even growled. I was shocked when he was just sitting there, staring at the wooden table and biting his lip. He was angry I could tell by his storming eyes but he was hurt too and I couldn't believe that had stung this much. She was just joking; it was a lame joke anyway. Why was he taking this to heart?

More importantly, why wasn't he making an attempt to shut her up? We all knew he could; he could destroy her. Yet, he was gritting his teeth and biting the inside of his cheek, staring at the teacher blankly. Maybe I didn't have to referee after all.

"Now that we have exhausted our quota of garbage talk for today. Any real questions?" Brutus asked and I knew by the bite in his tone that he had not appreciated the joke either. He had stared at Cato sympathetically while the blonde avoided his gaze. I knew then that Cato was his favorite. They had one of those 'teacher-who-watches-out-for-you' bonds. I could see how they were a good match. Brutus was probably future-Cato.

"What are Harkness-warriors?" I felt myself ask only to avoid the awkward silence that had fallen after his question. Everybody was scared to step on eggshells. I needed something to distract myself with. I needed something to distract Cato with because I couldn't handle his sulking; it was confusing me.

"Ah yes, newbie. Who wants to explain? How do we crown a Harkness-warrior?" Brutus had asked, the smirk returning to his face. He was leaning on the teacher's desk, his arms crossed as his gaze roamed around the class. Those biceps—I bet he could easily pick me up. That train of thought was not meant to be sexual but I guess maybe it was tainted a little by my absurd thoughts remaining from this morning.

"Somebody that talks all the time—," a girl piped up shyly, starting the round of venting. I would come to know every class Brutus led was a fan of venting. He must rub off on them.

"They ramble on and on about irrelevant points," another boy added, rolling his eyes and motioning with his hands. I noticed everybody stole a look towards Brutus when they spoke because they strived for his approval, which he gave in form of smiles or nods. They adored him and I couldn't yet see why. Had they really volunteered for this torture knowing he would teach this class?

"They disagree with every opinion but their own and with their own too if somebody else seconds it," the boy's friend added, earning himself a round of chuckles which he accepted with pride, his face shimmering in joy.

"Discussion dominator!" a taller girl in the front of me pointed out, excitedly and I saw that Brutus was nodding.

"Precisely. The Harkness-table warrior. Why you got an interest in the position?" Brutus asked, grinning and I smiled, shrugging. I was getting used to his dry humor and as long as it wasn't directed towards me but Katniss, I was fine. Meeting him had scared away all thoughts of Gale and I wanted to keep it that way.

"Why, is it open?" I quipped, smirking when people laughed. I could get used to this.

"No, unfortunately," Brutus stated in mock seriousness before sighing and facing the board where he had written the titles of many different books. The list was long and he proceeded to crush my dreams by letting me know we had to read all of them by the end of the year. He would guide us through but it was largely our own responsibility to catch up.

I had nodded, pulling out a notebook, noticing that Cato had already flipped open his and was taking notes. He was a leftie and when he wrote, his face scrunched up cutely and his tongue made a slight appearance. He was perfect when he didn't open his mouth. It made you forget he had the potential to bully you into suicide.

He had been so quiet that had I not known him before I would have assumed _he_ was the reserved one and not I. Where was his ego? It couldn't have been shattered merely by a stupid comment. Why was the Cato in class very different from the one outside? This one was serious, studious and happy in his own little world, chewing on his pen and keeping notes. The transformation was astounding and maybe this would be much better than I had first predicted. I was glad I had gotten to witness it; it placed some pieces on the puzzle.

I tried to make eye contact for the rest of the class but he had never wavered from staring at the opposite wall. I knew others would assume he was spacing out but by the way his pen starting moving at just the right time, I understood he was solely concentrated on Brutus' dry tone. Their relationship seemed very smooth, practiced almost. He knew when Brutus was serious and when he was merely joking; he knew what really mattered and when to actually say it.

Katniss had continued to glare at him but he had not given her the time of day and while I watched her sizzling in anger and him floating in apathy, I knew that the battle was way more complex than screaming and insults. That's what he did with Thresh, whom he actually liked and had comfort him on his bad days. That wasn't a big deal; that was horseplay. He knew Thresh had his back. This was different; this was real dislike.

As I watched his eyes glide down the sheet of paper, I smiled to myself because I was glad I was on the Thresh side of the spectrum.

* * *

"Gale, pick up please," I pleaded on the phone after hearing his voicemail for the thousandth time, sitting on my bed. I had yet to change out of my pants and shirt, rushing back to the dorm after school.

Thankfully, being situated on main campus made it easier for me to find my way back. Capitol was on the other side of the quad from the main academic buildings, like Brighton, Bay and Hynes, the English, History, and Math departments respectively. I had asked students throughout the day to point me in the right direction and, most of the time, I had managed to successfully find one nice enough for the task.

I had yet to see Marvel in any of my classes, a thought that had disappointed me but seeing as I only had US History, English and Calculus today, there was still hope. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day. I liked how the schedule had a lot of free time in the empty slots between the classes. Others had used it to socialize and catch up but seeing that I wasn't that socially advanced yet, I had sat down in the library, the gigantic library, and finished my homework. I was lame I knew but I needed some more time.

I was sprawled on my bed with the phone on my stomach, praying for it to ring. It had been a hot day but I was too lazy to unbutton my shirt at the moment. I doubt my nervous, shaking hands could accomplish that task anyway. I hadn't yet planned what I would say to Gale; all I knew was I had to get him to answer. The rest of the words would flow. My friendship with him would aid me in finding the right thing to say. He would understand.

Sighing heavily and drawing a quick breath I dialed his number again. It rang for a long time, each repetitive sound grating my nerves. His smooth voice answered his voicemail again, mocking me with a cheerfulness that I would not experience, and I screamed in defeat, throwing the phone against the wall. It slammed with a painful crack and I flinched, telling myself to control my anger.

I slapped a hand over my face, rubbing my eyes against the tears of frustration before stepping off the bed, walking towards where the phone was suffering silently. Hopefully, I had not broken it. As I bend to pick it up, I felt the door open next to me and I was about to look up in my fake smile to meet Thresh.

Instead, my lips parted and my eyes widened when I saw Marvel's form, draped against the doorframe, a smirk on his lips. Unlike Cato who scared the shit out of you with his smirk, Marvel's was playfully sexy and it just made my stomach flip in anticipation. The mark was still on his forehead, only slightly smudged by the many times that people had touched it in curiosity. His curly, black bangs now fell on top of it, shielding it like a curtain of soft locks. I had yet to know the meaning behind it.

I straightened myself to my full height, still slightly shorter than him, phone clutched in my hand, reminding me of our earlier interaction. He did not move to enter the room, instead opting for posing there seductively, urging me to ask him. I wondered if he was as restless as I; that had to be it. He seemed to ooze sexual tension and I couldn't help thinking that the way his eyes dropped, dilating, and his cheeks blushed exemplified how ready his body was for some sort of pleasurable relief. I could provide that—or I thought I could. I had never had the courage before to try anything with another boy. My old school did not like that. I wouldn't tell Marvel that. I could bullshit my way through.

"You seem frustrated. Is everything alright?" he asked, cocking his head side-ways and staring at me in mock caring.

I was about to answer, tell him everything was fine because I didn't want him involved in my life back home. I didn't want Gale and him to clash because I wanted them both on different occasions, preferably as far away from each other as possible. The phone shrilled the minute my mouth opened and I was stunned. This boy had magic powers when it came to making Gale call. It was amazing, amazingly annoying.

My eyes looked at him in fear than back at the caller ID. I desperately wanted the other to give me some space because as much as I loved how attractive Marvel looked, I knew if I didn't answer Gale now that path would be blocked forever.

"Oh, look, he called back," Marvel murmured, smiling slyly and I sighed, knowing he wasn't about to leave. I gave him one last pleading look before placing the phone on my ear and trying my hardest to ignore the curly-haired god who stepped in the room, leaning against the door.

"Gale," I murmured longingly on the phone, turning my back to the temptation.

"Hi," he muttered coldly and I flinched at his change in tone. Why did it have to be hard when I couldn't say everything? Big brother was watching me with his brilliant, green eyes and I didn't want to disappoint.

"Gale, I am sorry for…everything. I don't want us to be like this; I care about you," I rushed saying, merging the words together and cringing at the knowledge that he was listening in. I hoped he didn't misunderstand.

I dared to turn around and watch from the corner of my eye. He was still standing, swaying from side to side, staring at me through wide innocent eyes that I knew were a trap. He was up to something.

"It's doesn't look like it. It looks very one-sided all the way on this side," Gale stated and I could sense the hurt in his voice but before I could hurry to ease it, Marvel had stepped in front of me, blocking the air with his presence and my breath hitched as I tried to regain my composure.

"Ga-Gale, It's not like that, I swear. I've been an asshole—shit. But I'll make it up to you…" I stopped when Marvel leaned in and I couldn't prevent my eyes from half-lidding, the phone shook in my hand. Gale was talking on the other side but my brain had clogged; I couldn't hear anything.

Words were jumbled; my breath was louder than his voice on the phone and his green eyes were holding me in place. He was smiling until the second that his lips were too close to my face for me to see. He was drawing me in and I couldn't tell if he was moving towards me or we were both moving towards that center. The feeling was magnetic and it felt as if I had lost control over my body.

It felt like a longtime coming when our lips finally touched and before I could believe what was happening, he was kissing me actively, our eyes still open, his taunting and mine scared. His hand came up and I thought he was going to touch me but he simply removed the phone from my fingers. I let go because his hand was warm and it eased the shaking of mine when our fingers intertwined before he pulled Gale completely out of my life.

Instead of hanging it up or dropping it on the floor, he continued to keep it close to my face, torturing me. I continued to hear Gale yelling at me to pay attention but my hands betrayed me and instead of fighting him for the phone, I was holding his face closer, making it easier for me to kiss back as demandingly as he had started. He chuckled and I knew Gale could hear us; he could probably hear everything: the pants, the way our lips slurped, the low rumble in the back of his throat, the shuffling of our clothes. I was fucking up and I needed to stop!

"Peeta, what the fuck? Are you there? What the hell is going on?" Gale kept repeating and I wanted to reply but my lips were too busy working against his and my brain was lacking enough oxygen for me to make the right choice. It was intoxicating. It felt like the best moment of my life because the side of me that had been restrained for seventeen years could be released. The feeling of freedom combined with the taste of his sweet lips and the knowledge that this was Marvel, the one that everyone wanted, had forced my body into refusing to detach no matter how many times I heard Gale curse at me viciously.

The back of my knees hit the bed and I sat down, breaking the contact and gasping as his lips moved down my neck, licking my Adam's apple. I couldn't restrain the moan that escaped my throat and now Gale was more than suspicious, livid in fury and betrayal. I was such a fucker. I didn't deserve him.

"I've been waiting for this since this morning," Marvel whispered huskily in my ear, making sure it was on the side closer to the phone. He was the single reason my entire old self was falling to pieces right now. He was destroying my barriers and my protection at the same time. And I, being the naïve fool that I was, was letting him, hoping that he would become my new shield when knowing he wouldn't; he wasn't the type.

"Peeta, are you fucking serious? You are such a sick fuck! You asshole! I don't understand how you can excuse this. What did I ever do to you?" he was screaming, his voice raw and I pushed Marvel away because my heart leaped out of my chest at his pain and even the false happiness that the raven was providing couldn't conceal it.

"Gale! No, please! I'm sorry. I can't even fucking explain what's happening to—Gale, I didn't mean for this," I stumbled, out of breath. I could hear the sexual excitement in my voice because it had turned it dry and raspy.

Marvel pushed down, kneeling in front of me and looking up with his dilated eyes and I wanted to sob out loud. I was so conflicted and I couldn't enjoy what was happening because my heart was being pulled out of my chest.

"There is nothing to explain, you idiot! You decide to call me so I can fucking listen to you whore yourself out? Bravo! You have moved past your stage of denial; I hope you get AIDS," he spat out and I froze in revulsion because that was so homophobic and it offended me. He hadn't meant it. Gale wasn't like that. He was sweet and perfect. He was better than Marvel. Or at least that's what I was trying to convince myself of.

I knew Marvel had heard because his eyes transformed into anger before hiding behind his blasé look. He tried to recover his previous position, floating over my crotch but it was no use. The hard-on had long deflated and now I was left, feeling dirty and disgusting, my eyes stinging in disbelief.

"Marvel, please," I begged, looking at him and this time his entire face fell in solemn understanding. He stood up and briskly walked towards the door. The moment I heard the door shut, the phone-call dropped and I stood there, at the edge of my bed, tears blurring my vision as I heard the constant beeping of the phone. I placed the item of my suffering by my side, pushing myself up and pulling my knees to my chest.

What had just happened? How many things had I screwed up in the last ten minutes? How big was the collateral damage?

I didn't know what had gone through the Russian's mind; all I knew was that he had fucked it all up by being a prick. He wasn't nice; he was as much of a dick as the others. I couldn't hate myself because though I knew it was my fault for letting him go on, if I drowned in guilt I wouldn't be able to function. My mind automatically worked to protect itself, projecting all the guilt so now the only person I blamed was Marvel.

Stupid, fucking slut who had to come in and screwed everything up before leaving without even as much as an apology. Here I was hoping he would pay attention to me. I had really brought this on myself. I wasn't ready for anything of this magnitude.

Thresh entered the room as always right on time to see me sniffle in my own mucus but not on time to stop any of it. Sometimes I thought he did it on purpose but I knew I was being bitter because I felt cheated. He had done nothing but help me and I prayed to my tempter to hold on for a little longer. It wasn't him I wanted to scream at.

He looked at me once before sighing. I thought he would ignore it like usual, take up his spot on the desk but this time, he leaned on the wall opposite to me and crossed his arms, a serious look dawning on his face.

"What happened now?" He grunted and I hated how he was making me sound weak, like I did this all the time. I didn't need this right now.

"Why do you care anyway? Just go back to your desk," I snapped and a part of me knew I was being mean. I was pushing everybody who cared away because I didn't even want to be in my presence. I hated myself and I was drowning in my own toxicity. He glared at me but made another attempt because he was patient.

"I care because you look like utter shit. What the hell happened?" He growled and I glared at him defiantly because I didn't want to admit the truth. I was ashamed. He didn't seem to be budging though and I knew that he wasn't going to mock me. At least that's what I hoped for, pushing the angry Thresh at the back of my mind.

"Marvel—" I started, stuttering uncontrollably, more tears rolling down my face. He looked worried and he crossed the short distance between us, forcing me to look at his anxious eyes, tainted in anger.

"Marvel what? Did he—shit, no. Marvie." He exclaimed, whining at the other boy annoyed and I flinched, frowning in confusion while he moved away, going a hand through his short hair.

"Marvel kissed me," I whispered blushing, my entire frame shaking with the intensity of my sobs. I felt like I was pleading guilty in front of a judge that would sentence me to death. He had reacted violently that first day when it came to Marvel and I wondered if it had been a thing of the moment or if he really felt strongly against gays. It wouldn't matter now because I had already divulged it.

"You let him?" he asked in surprise and I froze because I didn't know what he was getting so riled up about. I didn't know if he would snap at me. I was feeling judged when I didn't think I deserved it. Was I not allowed to be happy? Couldn't I just be myself for two seconds? Everybody loved him; everybody wanted what I had just experienced. Why were they allowed to desire him but I was hated for it? They were all jealous bitches.

"Don't you know?" he inquired next and my last nerve snapped. I had managed to contain my mouth on the last question because it was Thresh and he was my last straw of protection. Without him, I would really be alone. But now he was pushing me again and I couldn't see how he had ever been helpful. He was mocking me.

"Don't I know what, Thresh? Because frankly you have told me nothing since I came here! No, I don't know! I don't know shit about this place! Why do people keep assuming I am this omnipotent narrator to this horror story?" I yelled, rambling on only to stop when the sobbing got too much. I could see he was taken aback but he was angry too because I had offended him.

"My fucking god, Peeta. Pay attention. You are pretty good at deducing everything else but when it comes to Marvel, you are blind as a bat. How can you not fucking see it? I mean it was more obvious this year than any other one frankly. The black-colored hair? The red mark on his forehead?" He roared impatiently, his eyes surprised in mocking. He thought I was an airhead and the worst of it was he was right about the Marvel thing. He was so fucking right and though he had pointed out those two seemingly random facts now, I still couldn't put them together.

"I don't know what that means!" I rasped out, hurt and angry, because he was essentially calling me reckless and torturing me with this information. Why couldn't he just tell me straight? I didn't need this going back and forth; couldn't he see I was already crumbling as it is?

His face softened and his eyes looked at me in pity. I had to stare away because I didn't want his pity. I hadn't done anything wrong. This wasn't fair. Why did I always have to feel like it was my fault? I wasn't a fuckup child—I wasn't trying to be no matter how little people believed that.

"They call him the 'black widow', Peeta. Like the spider that eats her mate? The symbol he has on his forehead—" He started and I couldn't believe his words. I was stunned, trying to shove away whatever he was implying.

"—Is the same one the spider has on its stomach. Yes, I see it, now," I mumbled to complete his sentence because I did see it. It had been quite obvious if you had background. That was probably why Cato and Clove found it so amusing. I had been the laughing stock of the group. I had been just another fly, trapped in his web. He didn't like me at all. He didn't care. He did this with everyone. He wanted the sex, nothing else. I was a fucking fool, having sacrificed Gale for him.

"Don't take it personally. Marvel is—he's like that. He's always been like that," Thresh muttered and I could see he was struggling hard to protect the younger. I couldn't believe he would stand up for him even in this situation. He was clearly wrong! He was an asshole! He hurt people. Why did he deserve this protection?

"Like a whore you mean? A fucker?" A snapped bitterly, glaring at the opposite walls, the tears still dripping on the sheets.

"Don't! Don't call him that. Don't sink that low, Peeta," He advised and I was about to call him a hypocrite because he had been the one who had first called him a slut and a bunch of other colorful names. I should have listened.

"You've said it yourself," I muttered under my breath and he flinched, nodding in resignation.

"I know and I was wrong. You don't know him—he means well. He doesn't want to hurt anyone. He probably thought you knew," Thresh continued to explain in his patient voice and he was frustrating me because I had no idea what he was talking about. I didn't know you could excuse whoring around but apparently you can. Thresh did it well.

"He thought I knew that I would end up eaten alive by the end of it?" I snorted sarcastically, looking at him in disbelief.

"No. That relationships don't really exist in E.L.; it's all about fuck-buddies," Thresh stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and I gaped, "He probably thought all your flirting meant you were up for it but you aren't. Don't let that upset you."

"How would you know?" I snapped, interrupting him immediately because I needed to tell him that I didn't want a relationship. I wasn't one of those fluffy losers. I could do sex with no ties. I could. I didn't have to get attached; I didn't want to get attached.

"Because I have seen people fail. Some can and some can't; it devastates them. You are one of the latter. Clove is one of the former. That's why they have been humping for a year now. No feelings, no heart-heart kissy-kissy, nada. He should have never tried with you," Thresh explained crudely and I didn't know if I was more shocked at him labeling me so fast, Clove and Marvel fucking, or the fact that he dismissed the idea of Marvel trying as an idiotic one. Wow. Could I be more offended, more hurt? I don't think it was possible.

"You're a dick and he's one too," I mumbled under my breath with my strained, wet voice, jumping of the bed and slamming the door shut. I heard Thresh call my name before grumbling but I didn't stop. I headed straight for his room, knocking on the door and opening it, without waiting for a response. I stood there in my ruffled top and red, teary face looking at him, pouting.

"Talk about a train-wreck. What do you need, blondie?" Cato snapped teasingly, looking at me confused before he realized that it was serious. I wasn't glaring back at him or offering anything but my sorrowful, blue-eyes. His almost white brows furrowed and he paused the game, patting the spot next to him on the couch.

I sniffled one more time, wiping my nose against my sleeve before ambling into his room and sitting next to him on the couch, looking at the bright green screen. He was still playing with Real Madrid. I pulled my knees up to my chest again and shifted closer to him. If I was going to lose everything, I was going to try my best to keep him in my life. Fuck Gale and Marvel and Thresh. Getting close to people, getting your hopes up always disappointed you. At least no matter what Cato would do it would be a step up. I had already seen what rock-bottom looked like with him.

"So how does this work? Do you talk about it and I pretend to ca—listen, I mean," he muttered, glancing at me sideways once before starting the game again, the players bouncing the ball around, struggling for advantage. He was so brutally honest.

"What does Thresh tell you when you're upset? Or Clove? Or whoever's there?" I mumbled, asking him, not breaking my eye contact with the black and white bouncing ball on the screen that wasn't even close to reaching its destination. He really did suck at this.

"It depends on what I'm upset about. It's usually a lot of them stroking my ego," he quipped, grinning at me and I had to snort at that because it was probably true, "Don't beat around the bush."

"Will you promise not to kill me?" I asked, shrinking back into the couch and hiding my eyes. I wasn't sure he had heard me. He snorted. He really had no idea what this was about.

"Well, whatever it is, it seems to be doing a fine job torturing you," he muttered, shrugging and I looked sideways at him once before reaching out to steal the controller from his hands. He protested slightly as the players stopped their movement before I paused it.

Now he was staring at me in curiosity, waiting for me to open my mouth. I took a deep breath and let everything flow out of my mouth because I needed to get it off my chest.

"Marvel kissed me but Thresh says I'm not his type, the fuckbuddy type," I blurted and it sounded so stupid that I slapped my head in pity, burying my face on my knees. I felt him growl before he made himself calm down. I looked up and I could see hurt pass in front of his eyes before he controlled himself and forced an annoyed look. I should have never told him. He was too close to the action. He was too bias. He adored Marvel, for god's sake. He would always be on his side.

"Thresh is right," he snapped a bit more angrily than I would have wanted him to and I looked up at his blue eyes in pleading, pouting more. I didn't want him to misunderstand. I didn't want him to think that any of this had been my doing. I merely complied because I guess I was weak when it came to the other.

"He has a good radar for this too so I would listen to him," he mumbled, reaching for the controlling and ripping it off my hands forcefully, continuing the game. I sat there in silence, trying to find a way to mend the situation. I had miscalculated. He couldn't help; he had just sided with Thresh. I should have predicted they would stand strong as a unit.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you," I spoke regretfully, choosing to keep it vague because frankly I didn't know who he was madder at, the moment he heard of the arrangement. I heard him sigh, pausing it again and laying his head back on the couch staring at the ceiling in thought. I waited, patiently for him to voice his will. I could see he was struggling to find the right words so I knew I had to cherish whatever would come out of his mouth. He was torn.

"I know...you are taking this personally but Thresh is just watching out for you. Marvel is a sweetheart—I know. That's precisely why it's really easy to fall for him if you are not the 'type' he needs," Cato mumbled moodily and I knew immediately he was speaking from experience. He had to be if his face was showered in so many emotions. He had never let his guard down this much before. It excited me and made me jealous at the same time. It made me wonder about what happened between them and why was Clove the one doing the honors instead of Cato, whom Marvel seemed to worship. What happened to Cato is straight as an arrow?

"Where you speaking truth when you said he was good in bed?" I asked, shyly, looking at him, trying to look innocent. No use getting mad over spilt milk. I had no right to get mad anyway. Whatever they did was their own choice. Cato could have called dibs on Marvel way before. He chuckled surprised, looking at my thrilled expression, clearly noticing that I had taken it this well. Frankly, I was proud at myself too. I expected to be burning in jealousy but somehow it made me feel less alone, like I wasn't the only one.

"He's amazing, which is the number one reason so many get caught up in that web until they die in the painful misery of his neglect," he snorted, explaining dramatically, rolling his eyes and staring at me sideways. A smile was making its way to my face because the way he handled it was perfect. He was exactly what I needed.

He didn't make me feel like a whore, telling me I had no self-respect and I threw myself at everybody's feet. He wasn't like Gale.

He didn't tell me to stay away, treating me as if I had made a foolish mistake. He wasn't like Thresh.

He had not let his feelings get in the way and he had explained using his weird sense of humor that I wasn't the first to fall in the web. That it was common and that you could survive. He comforted me and made it something we could talk about, something we had in common. It almost felt as if he understood my pain and could relate.

"What happened between you guys?" I asked the million-dollar question, hoping to get an answer, hoping he would trust me enough to reveal a part of his secrets. After all, I had been open about mine. He probably knew the most about me at the moment. I wanted to look into their relationship, the many twists and turns that I couldn't possibly understand without some guidance. I wanted to be part of that because I liked hanging out with him and no matter how many times I was denying the thought, killing it in my brain, I knew I would go back to Marvel. I had had a taste so unless what Cato said deterred me, saved me, I was trapped.

His face twisted in pain and his eyes flooded in a morbid combination of affection and loss. It was fascinating. Now, I really wanted to know.

"I—


	7. Calling a Spade a Spade

**Chapter 6: Calling a Spade a Spade**

_Peeta's POV (Monday)_

"I—

The door burst open and I cringed back while Cato screamed something along the lines of 'knock, fucker'. I hadn't even heard another door open and I was so caught up in staring at his blue eyes that the interruption had my heart going at double speed.

Thresh stumbled into the room, slamming the door behind him, causing Cato to look away from the ceiling and sit upright. I had dropped down from my previous anger so now all that was protecting me was the blonde and the comfortable couch. I wondered if he would explode. Would he be mad that I had ignored him? Practically talked back, rejected his help, yelled in frustration?

He glared at me, causing me to submit quickly, before looking at Cato. His eyes were blood-shot and I suddenly remembered what he did every night and what he hid under his mattress. I was frightened. I felt like this had been partially my fault. I had driven him to this.

I turned towards Cato for help, the hand I had placed on the couch in between us sliding slowly to grasp the edge of his sweatpants. He stared at me in confusion before he looked at Thresh again, placing a fake smile on his face. I didn't know if Thresh in his state could distinguish the plastic look of Cato's 'I-am-actually-annoyed' smiles from the calming aspect of his genuine ones.

"What's up, Thresh? Were you lonely in your room?" the blonde teased, keeping his taut smile and I looked down because I didn't think that was an appropriate way to address the situation. Thresh growled under his breath once before he started his rant.

"Shut up, Cato," He snapped, further letting himself in and leaning against the drawers across from the couch. It seemed that his gigantic form was taking all the air in the room, making oxygen scarce. His position on the door increased my panicking because I didn't like to be in rooms where the exit was not easily accessible. The conditioned reaction of my hurried breathing and trembling heart had been learned ever since I was a young child.

"Do you want to talk about what got the stick up your ass?" Cato muttered annoyed, rolling his eyes and starting the game again. I thought it wasn't the time but I noticed it eased his nerves. He liked playing and talking simultaneously. Probably because it didn't require eye contact and it gave him a distraction from his actual thoughts. His immediate thoughts, the ones that usually ran on instinct and ended up being uncalled for, were the only ones that could break that barrier. No wonder he sucked at the game; he never really paid full attention to it.

"I think blondie here might have a point—" Thresh started, pointing towards me and I could tell he wasn't completely back to friendly terms because he didn't use my name. There seemed to be a lot of significance in your real name when it came to them. It conveyed trust, loyalty, devotion in a way. It was fascinating. I wondered what Thresh's real name was, or Marvel's. I wondered if all of them used aliases. I assumed they did looking at their strange first names. How had they shared their names with each other? Had it been a 'you-tell-me-yours-I'll-tell-you-mine' occasion?

"Woah, easy there. That's a big remark," Cato interrupted to joke and by the glare he got I knew he was underestimating how angry Thresh actually was. I snorted at the statement just to ease the situation but the tension only increased as he turned towards me and I pouted in dismay. Now that I was feeling better he had to go and be mad. It didn't seem fair. Maybe if I apologized I could smooth matters over but he had just agreed to one of my points and I doubt that taking it back would help anything. I had to sit there and listen because this was bound to be interesting.

"Let's pretend, for a _mere _second, that you_ don't _constantly break my balls," Thresh growled, irritated, and Cato's face fell into a scowl, all humor draining never to return after Thresh's next rhetorical question, "Why do we all have to pretend that Marvel is not a little slut?"

I gaped, cursing under my breath. I didn't know if I was more frightened by the aspect of Cato knowing I insulted his perfect Marvel, whom, for some reason, he thought was a sweetheart, or by the realization that I would have to be present for another one of their confrontations. The feeling of déjà vu was suffocating and it made me think about how much had changed only in a couple of days. I had almost forgotten it had been _these_ two throwing the lowest of the low insults, hitting below the belt and vomiting ugly emotions in form of blows.

"You're on Meth again. I don't wanna hear it, Thresh," Cato stated plainly, his face completely blank. I knew he was hiding behind the façade again. I doubt he was as calm inside as his face was showing. If he were as vulnerable as he had been in the locker rooms with Marvel, we would have seen a multitude of emotions explode from his visage.

"Of course you don't. Peeta, this is what you end up like if you continue the path you're on," Thresh continued, pointing at Cato mockingly and grinning like a maniac. I couldn't find any of this amusing so I didn't offer him any acknowledgment because he had gone back to his aggressive self.

I had thought that had been a slip the first time. I thought he had changed; he wasn't like that with me or with his gang. I hated that he was under the influence again and I was accounting his anger and honesty to the effects of the Methamphetamine. The drug, being a stimulant, was probably placing him in a constant state of fight or flight. Seeing as fleeing was not an option for Thresh, his attitude transformed into the permanently defensive one. I guess the blonde had figured out this much too, fighting hard to keep himself under control. He was probably repeating in his mind that 'it wasn't worth it'.

"What path is that, oh all-knowing one?" Cato growled, his teeth grit. I could see the comment had stung because now the game was forgotten without being paused, the controller thrown aside, crashing on the floor, the players standing there awkwardly as if to witness the encounter.

I didn't attempt to retrieve it. I was frozen in spot, my fingers reluctantly detaching from his pants when he stood up. I thought about pulling him back to prevent whatever was about to happen but I was too scared, too weak to intervene in such matters. They were beyond me though I lately seemed to be the instigator of every one of them.

"Are you feeling tough today, Cay-Cay? You wanna re-live some of your past?" Thresh murmured and I cringed at the nickname while the top of Cato's lip snarled, his eyes storming worse than ever before.

I had seen that look before; it was the same one he had given me when I had attempted to blackmail him. It was the trapped one that made him thrash around violently to gain some advantage. Thresh should have known better than I not to use this approach, yet he was going for it because he knew it injured not only his emotional defense but also his pride.

I could tell Thresh was displacing his anger on Cato. The blonde wasn't whom he was really upset at. I had thought it was I before, when he just came in. I thought he just didn't like the way I had acted and I could admit fault there. I could apologize if it meant saving the blonde from another breakdown.

But that's not what he wanted. He wanted Marvel; he was angry because I had made him remember exactly how much power the curly-haired heartbreaker had. I doubt he would mind standing up for Marvel on other occasions. I had seen him doing it before. He liked the kid; he was nice to him, protective even. It had to be the drugs. They were making connections that he wouldn't have deemed rational had he been his usual self. I saddened me that he couldn't understand how much the drugs ruined him, his friends, his identity, his entire life. I felt pity.

"Is that supposed to be a threat? I can't tell," Cato snapped back and I knew he was daring the other to even as much as mention what had went down between the Russians. I was so hopelessly curious that a part of me wished he just blurted it out. I felt mean because I knew that would hurt Cato and yet I was willing it to take place.

Thresh snorted, ignoring him easily and looking at me. He liked to include in these things when Cato tended to keep me out. I knew that none them were doing it for my benefit. I doubt Cato wanted to protect me from harm and I highly doubt Thresh thought I felt left out. They were just using me as another weapon, the main weapon because I was the one they revealed all these weaknesses to. I was somehow their judge.

"Do you want to know, blondie?" Thresh asked, smirking at me and Cato was fuming, staring at me defiantly. I looked between their contrasting eyes, the dark ones telling me to tread the dangerous ground and ask, while the clear ones warning me off. I sighed mentally, standing with a foot on either side of a rapidly cracking ground.

"Know what?" I managed to choke out between stutters and I felt Cato frown, sizzling. I had to shut up if I wanted to maintain my relations with him. I was veering off again; putting my selfish emotions above his hurt ones. He had helped me; he didn't deserve this. I should have automatically taken his side even if that meant being eaten alive at night by my roommate. Cato was my only defense as of right now.

"Don't do this, Thresh. I trusted you, you fucker," Cato muttered, torn and for a second I saw a flash of regret going through my roommate's eyes. He wouldn't betray Cato. Even in his drug-induced rage, he wasn't about to burn all the bridges.

Cato seemed lost, grasping at the ends of the curtain so it didn't rise, revealing with it all his insecurities. Apparently, all of the children trusted each other with these types of secrets. It didn't seem smart because they were so neurotic and unstable that they could turn against the others any second. I would not be sharing my past anytime soon with any of them. If they could backstab each other when they had familiar ties bonding them, they could destroy me.

"That's exactly why I'm trying to keep you from squirming back all the time. It's not working; he isn't worth it," Thresh muttered after sighing heavily and turning for the door again. His hand halted on the door handle as he paused to hear Cato's reply. It was taking the blonde some time to form the sentence, his mouth opening and closing. I wondered if he was struggling with denial. I wondered how much it actually hurt him to be around Marvel. I wondered how lost he was, how deep had he fallen, how cocooned in the silver web. I wondered if I really would end up like Cato. I was surely on the right track, having actually taken the express train.

"Because staying away for three months helped a lot," Cato whispered, defeated, regaining his position on the couch, staring at the ceiling. I looked at him in sadness, biting my lip. He seemed so exhausted by the constant need to defend himself. He seemed to always need to watch his back. He was attacked at the classroom, outside, in the dorm, in his friend group. That must take a toll on his body.

Thresh turned around at this statement, furious determination staining his eyes. I looked at him, cocking my head in confusion and he sighed upon spotting the lost expression on my face. I wasn't as hurt as before so I didn't want them to be fighting because of me. I had moved past most of that.

I had yet to remind myself of Gale, knowing that would be stupid. It was too soon, the pain still too fresh. I had to give myself some time before I could make things right. Blaming Marvel would get me nowhere. I doubt the black-haired boy was the apologizing type no matter how much I had been fantasizing of makeup sex. I was the bane of my own existence. It was amazing how much I had the potential to destroy my own life conditions.

"Marvel, hurry!" Clove was screaming outside, clearly having entered our hallway and all three of us turned towards the door just in time to see Marvel stroll in. I held my breath; Cato shot Thresh a pleading look while the latter smirked sadistically. I didn't think letting Marvel in would be a good idea. I was still insecure about how our first interaction would go. Would he be mad that I rejected him, made him leave? Would he have moved on already? Was he going to acknowledge me?

As much as I was outraged, I knew it would shatter me if he pretended that nothing had happened. I knew he was a slut. I knew he did this all the time, slept around, got admired. Yet, I had somehow convinced myself that I could do it to. I had pressured myself into making the absurdity of the EL fuckbuddy relationships my reality. I wanted to show to myself that I could be in control of my emotions, that I wasn't going to suffer from them any longer. I wasn't going to go through what I went with Gale.

I would reign in my attraction and force myself to physically enjoy what was offered. I would make a smart choice solely for business purposes; I would use his experience and I would use his position of authority. That was it. I would drop him like he had dropped countless others and if I was lucky, I would make him cry, like he had probably made Gale cry. Like he had made me cry, break down and come sniffling to Cato.

"Cato, we are going to the lake. Come with!" Marvel yelped excitedly, opening the door without knocking only to stumble backwards, taken off guard. Immediately, I saw Cato move towards him as if dragged by a force field and Thresh simultaneously shift to intercept him, coming in between them blocking Marvel's view of the room. I just sat there enjoying the show, trying to get a glimpse of the jade eyes, displaying for the first time a lost, busted look.

"Woah, everyone and their moms are in this room. Since when have you become a social butterfly?" Marvel joked, giggling slightly and I noticed that his cheeks were flushed and his eyes spacy. By the way he swayed lightly, I could tell there was something off. He was drunk, he had to be with the way he was unaware of the coiling tension in the small room.

"Come to the lake with us, Cay," Marvel asked again, his cheerfulness not dropping though he was facing the intimidating chest of Thresh, flexing and towering. From the thrilled tone, I was fascinated to note that it didn't seem like he was asking at all. He was demanding it, pouting and doing his puppy-dog eyes. If Thresh had not been standing in his way, he would have probably rushed to the blonde's arms and dragged him by the sleeve.

He had used the same nickname as Thresh and I had seen Cato flinch when I looked at him knowingly. The only reason Thresh had mentioned it was to make an impact. With every sentence Thresh said I got a step closer to putting together their past relationship. The failed one that had apparently left them distant for months.

If there was one thing I knew about Thresh was that every insult, every come back, every sentence he said during one of his outbursts had a concrete base on truth. I remembered the first fight that they had and how he had mentioned Marvel's flighty nature and his reluctance to 'suck Cato's cock'. Back then I had thought it brash and unnecessary, dismissing it as an angry remark people made to hurt others but now I knew that when he wanted to hurt you, he knew exactly how to do it. He could strike the exact spot that was previously sore, injured. He had this incredible ability to obliterate people like all of them did. It was most certainly from their upbringing.

"Stay back, Cato," Thresh threatened, causing Cato to moan in frustration, turning around and placing both arms above his head. He did not make a move to protest because he didn't want to seem weak in front of me; he didn't want to prove Thresh right about always going back. Little did he know that I had already noticed his affection; I had deciphered the suffocating amount of care he had for the younger long before Thresh had come out and said it. It was obvious after all with his possessive attitude.

Marvel had given Thresh a dirty look before making a face. The little boy didn't like not getting his way and he was about to not get more than that with Thresh dominating the room. I was happy about it because it was a little payback and as much as I wanted to tell myself to blame my own reluctance to stop him more, it felt good to know he was getting a little hurt. I knew that I wouldn't be able to inflict him any pain because his eyes were misleading and they hypnotized you into submission. Seeing Thresh completely overpass that boundary left me awestricken, though I knew he couldn't do it on his own, sober and lucid.

"Or not, I guess," Marvel blurted, smiling in mocking, looking around in that 'what the fuck is going on' amused sort of way before inching back towards the wooden door. I was surprised he had given up this fast but I guess the alcohol had given him a short attention span and Clove's screams where getting more insistent. I wondered who else was going to the lake and what that was code for.

The moment his fingers touched the handle, Thresh grabbed the back of his black hoodie, pulling him backwards a couple of feet. He stumbled in his intoxicated state before turning around and fixing the hoodie that Thresh had managed to stretch so far that even his bare shoulder was showing. I could see hickeys running from his torso all the way up his neck and I scowled, looking away. He was a whore. He deserved everything he got. Who had that been? Clove? I was trying hard to fight the jealousy so I turned to Cato because the closest person to Marvel was definitely the blonde.

He was undeniably getting testy and I grabbed his sleeve, dragging him back on the couch to try and ease him out of his indecision. I didn't want him to go to Marvel; I wanted him to stay with me. I knew I was being selfish and probably hurting Cato in the process but I tried to excuse it by saying it was for his best. He needed to be saved from that toxic relationship. He wanted this; he just couldn't manage it himself.

He let himself fall back on the surface but his eyes were not shifting from the other boy who was now staring at us in anger, feeling trapped. The trapping monster trapped himself? Oh well, that's how the cookie crumbled.

"What the fuck, man? The hell is your problem?" Marvel snapped and I could see that he was heated because he didn't know why Thresh was being an asshole all of a sudden. He didn't understand these things; he only knew how to identify feelings such as affection, worshipping and lust. It must have been even worse in his drunken state where he probably thought Cato had betrayed him, gathering the army and laying low until he came. He thought he was being ambushed and in a way he was.

"My problem is that you want to keep ripping all these innocent people's hearts out like Finnick took yours," Thresh murmured so softly that if I hadn't known he was mad, if I wasn't listening to the meaning behind words, I would have thought he was complimenting the boy.

The boy whose entire face had dropped at the name, whose hands hid their shaking inside the pocket of the dark hoodie, whose eyes fogged up and whose lips pouted in resentment. Here I had been thinking he was perfect; he had everything—everything but a weakness. Yet here it was, deep into the bag of secrets that Thresh dragged around only to be opened when he was deeply under the influence, when protector Thresh got drowned by substances unable to do his job as the keeper.

Here it fucking was and it had a name—it lived!

"Thresh!" Cato screeched horrified and the hair in my arms rose at the sparkling tension roving around the room warningly. The blonde had jumped of the couch, looking in disbelief at the other's back before pushing his way through to Marvel's side. It all had happened so fast and I was busy trying to figure out whom Finnick was exactly so I couldn't find time to stop him from choosing the curly-haired boy again above all else, including but not limited to his dignity.

"For once in your life ever since he dropped out of his mother's vagina, let him fight his own battles, Cato," Thresh grumbled, not showing an ounce of regret at having annihilated every trace of joy the other had when he skipped inside, excited like a child waking up Christmas day to find his presents under the tree.

"I see you're on Meth again, Thresh. How quaint—I'm not gonna stand here and humor you though," Marvel growled and I rose my eyebrows at the sound because I hadn't seen him in fight mode. I doubt he would restrain himself with Thresh like he probably had to do with Glimmer, who was his flesh and blood, his other half. If he could do that much damage to her with those taken in consideration, I could only image the intensity of pain he wanted to cause the other boy, the one that betrayed his weakness, poked him with a stick when he was down.

I wondered if he would transform into an angry drunk from his usual giggling self. Maybe Thresh had not chosen the right venue or maybe he had because I could see the alcohol was inhibiting him from putting up the usual porcelain doll face of ethereal, natural beauty.

I noticed that the way they fought each other was always by revealing stories from the past. Sure they pushed around, annoying each other with a few curses here and there. But when they were really mad, flustered beyond belief, they sought to use that shock weapon.

They sought to startle the other person into fearing that if he didn't submit, all hell would break lose, releasing with it their sins and secrets. It was a type of blackmail and when I had tried to stupidly do it to Cato, I hadn't noticed how close to home it must have hit.

Thinking about how much physical damage they could do, how many atrocities they had witnessed and how blasé they had been taught to be about crimes, I knew the only type of mutilation that they could successfully commit to each other was emotional one because their emotions would always be their weak spots.

"Oh, not so fast, cunt," Thresh snorted, moving to block the door once again and this time I saw Marvel roll his eyes extensively, sighing dramatically, motioning to the skies before moving away from that corner of the room to approach the mini-fridge under Edan's bed. He seemed to have calmed down, strutting on the other side, his feathers ruffled by the remark but not even close to dropping on the floor.

When he passed by my side, I looked down in shame, knowing that if I waited for the eye contact I would be let down. He had come through though and a part of me had cursed him for that because I wanted him to be a dick so that I could let go of this fixation forever. He knew when to act however and he knew when to ignore. He was a fucking pro and I wanted to break him, like Finnick apparently had done.

As his addicting sweet scent drafted through my nose and I saw his untied, colorful high tops step on the ground in front of my eyes practically crushing the discarded controller, he lightly touched my hair with his fingers, giving me a taste of attention before moving towards ravaging the small fridge. He maneuvered with such ease around this room; he knew the location of everything even in his state of delusion.

Cato had turned towards Thresh with a stern face and they were whispering to each other rapidly with harsh, ragged breaths. I couldn't quite catch their words and I couldn't read their lips because my eyes were glued to Marvel's cute, tight ass as he crawled on the floor to reach what he wanted. _Good in bed_. Fuck you, Cato for ever shoving that in my mind.

"If you are going to reveal all my secrets, we are gonna be here for a while but alas don't worry, I managed to dig up…this bottle of Jack," Marvel exclaimed sardonically, finally standing up, snapping my eyes back to the floor, and holding a whiskey bottle of Jack Daniel's, the coppery liquid oozing in the glass ominously, making a sloshing sound that seemed to please him into sitting on the floor to observe his treasure.

I couldn't believe they kept alcohol in their rooms. Edan? The kid was a sophomore, no way near legal. This was crazy and they encouraged it. They probably ended up having liver problems and then buying their livers from the black market that their father's led-

-not out loud! I am pleasantly surprised, brain. You have impressed me.

I could see by the way he had not turned his eyes once towards Thresh that Marvel was back to his happy-go-lucky, drunken self and I didn't understand how he had covered ground when he hadn't even fought back. It was strange how he won. It was enticing to follow his manipulations because they weren't obvious; they were so fine and subtle that I was certain he didn't do them on purpose. He was taught since a young age to refine this skill to the point where he could perform it even with alcohol burning his blood, clogging his frontal lobes. Was it because he didn't care? Did he pretend he didn't care? Because I was certain that the name had sent a shiver to his core but it had been so short-lived that it was disappointing.

Thresh was about to speak, protest against the seemingly idiotic celebration but Clove was slamming on the door, practically knocking it over. For a girl of such small stature, she could cause some real damage and I was starting to fear her. Somewhere in between keeping guard of the exit and destroying Marvel's dreams of going to the lake, Thresh had locked the door so now that Ukrainian devil was ramming against it.

"Marvel, you little fucker, come on this is not funny," She yelled on the other side, her accent more prominent now that she seemed intoxicated. I wondered if they all drank in their free time, chilling in their rooms. It seemed lame and dangerous. I wouldn't do it.

By the time I had looked away, startled by the noise, to the time I looked back to hear his response he had managed to down an eighth of the bottle. I wanted to move towards him and take it away because this couldn't end well. I had seen this before.

"They are holding me hostage, Clove. Heeep! _Spasite!_ " Marvel was screaming back from his giggling position, laying flat on the floor with the bottle in his hand. Cato had started grinning, crossing his arms on his chest in that confident manner, telling Thresh to try and ruin his mood now. He _had_ chosen the wrong venue.

I thought it wasn't possible to win with Marvel. I was sure the entire scenario was making Thresh worse. He was fuming, one of his hands grasping the edge of the drawers until the knuckles were white, the other gripping something in his pocket and if I didn't know better, I would have thought he needed another hit. He was running low, his brain lacking the right amount of push to get him through the day just using its natural receptors. Is this what he did when he disappeared during the day? But why would somebody want to invest time, effort—money— in a drug that makes them so damn angry and irritable?

"Are you there alone, you creep? Unlock this door!" She replied and by the strain in her voice I could sense she was trying hard to keep the humor from mixing with the anger. She had to show him she was serious, though I doubt anything could get him up at this point. He had completely collapsed and was laughing like a little child. His gigs were contagious and somehow I had to try hard to be mad at him.

We had been so quiet that she thought he had just invaded the room. By her unimpressed tone, I didn't think it was an uncommon event. The girl outside had no idea how funny she looked trying to control a completely wasted boy when she was drunk herself, both of them fighting through a door.

"I'm here with Jack!" Marvel announced back; unable to finish his sentence before bursting out into hysterical laughter, thinking the joke was funny. I thought the fact that he was laughing was funny. I was biting my lip so Thresh wouldn't eat me alive.

"Who the fuck is Jack? _Marvel,_ _hvatit__, pazhalusta! _Cato, are you in there? Can I leave knowing he's not gonna choke on his own vomit?" Clove mumbled defeated, having given up on reasoning with the curly-haired boy who was too busy filling his mouth with liquid to talk. Sometimes, he seemed so spaced out that I wasn't sure he realized where he was. How did Thresh ever think he could reason with the boy, teach him a lesson? It was ridiculous.

"I'm here, Clo. I got him. Tell Sonny he'll sleep here tonight, seeing as he will probably spend his night hugging the toilet and his morning sliding across the ice with a head-splitting hangover," Cato mumbled through the door, sighing, before walking over, ignoring Thresh's deathly stare and my shocked face, to sit down next to the boy, removing the bottle from his hands with a great deal of effort while the other whined, speaking to him in broken Russian that was already slurring beyond comprehension.

"He's already had vodka—too much of it. Don't let him mix. Don't let him pass out. Don't let him die, you know, the usual?" Clove murmured, still trying to take care of the situation even in her state. She was such a small girl that I wondered how high her tolerance was. If she had drunk the same amount as Marvel, how was she not dead yet?

"About that…" Cato drawled, staring at the bottle of whiskey he had just confiscated with a trounced expression, "Have fun at the lake, Clove. Say hi to all those other inebriated bitches. Try not to die yourself. Who else is coming back with you?"

"Don't worry, Cato. I'll be with Adrian and Gianna," Clove muttered, her voice less loud as she moved away from the door, dismissingly. Adrian was going to the lake? He was what? Fourteen? Oh holy God have mercy for the children of today.

Back in the room, a tense silence fell as we all started to think about how to pick up our previous conversation. It was as if the weight of the words was hanging in the air and I doubt any of the mafia boys was ready for any confrontation.

By the sheen of sweat on Thresh's forehead and the way his hand was shaking as tremors ran through his body, I knew he was going through the first stages of withdrawal. He was dependent and this wasn't normal.

This wasn't like Marvel and the alcohol where Cato could pull the bottle out of his hands and distract him into forgetting. This wasn't like the cigarettes that Cato pretended to like when I had seen him go days without touching one. Those were children's games; those were for attention; for the 'cool' factor. This was real and it was ruining his life. I didn't know how to help him; I just knew I wanted to—I had to.

"Thresh, not here please. If you throw up, I wont be able to stop him all night," Cato hurried to rush in, his tone worried and strained, as he tried to push Marvel back on the floor. Through pitiful eyes that I tried to keep to myself in order to give him some privacy, we watched Thresh battle his gag reflex to hold the nausea down. I had heard many withdrawals included vomiting even with the reduced appetite.

I had seen it first hand, waking up every day to go to school, making my own breakfast because mommy didn't need to eat breakfast anymore. I didn't want to be living with this again. I hadn't been successful in saving her the first time. I couldn't save him either. It was hopeless.

Holding his strength, he gave us one last look and I knew that he might have half the secrets to breaking everyone but he didn't hold the secret to stopping himself from shattering, wasting away. He was the one who was really at a loss.

Marvel had managed to sit up on his ass and I could see that even in his fogged up state he was watching the dark-skinned boy in concern. He knew about the Meth the same way Cato knew. Why weren't they helping him? How long had they known about it? Did they think it was normal? They had power. They could have acted on it. They weren't watching his back.

"Maybe you should go to Haymitch—" the intoxicated one tried to murmur in suggestion and I was about to nod when Thresh snapped aggressively for him to 'shut the fuck up'. The raven flinched more than necessary, frowning at the loudness while Cato stood up, mouthing for me to 'keep an eye on Marvel' as he escorted Thresh to his room, not physically touching him but offering silent moral support.

I smiled at him then because he seemed to be keeping all of us together, sane. Maybe he was a good dorm monitor after all. He clearly had a pack mentality where he took care of everyone that was in Capitol, no matter how harsh they were to him. He might not have cared for us as people but now that I lived here, I had become part of a group and I could never deny that. For the first time since I imaged myself at District 10, walking twenty minutes to get to classes, I was happy I was here.

The door closed and I shifted my eyes to look at Marvel. He was yawning, wiping at his eyes and looking at me sleepily. I could see by the way his eyes dilated that he couldn't even concentrate on my face. I had never had this responsibility before and I felt important knowing that I had his life in my hands and for the first time, he was dependent on me. He was small, vulnerable, lost, looking at me for guidance.

"Let's play find where Cay hid the bottle!" he screamed in excitement, having needed a few second to come up with the plan and I snorted before forcing him to sit still. He was looking around, like a dog trying to sniff for food, his eyes scanning the floor and his mouth pulling air in to make his cheeks puff up before sighing it out again in frustration.

He tried to stand up again, bracing himself on the drawers and looking around the room, clearly dizzy. I chuckled when he cursed under his breath and my voice caused him to look at me again, pouting like a small child. He was more flushed then before, his entire forehead gleaming in sweat and his bangs sticking to it before he wiped his forearm against them annoyingly.

"Come sit down. He took it with him," I lied through my teeth, keeping my voice silky smooth and I saw his face become comically devastated before he ambled to the couch and slammed on it face down so his head was on my lap and his feet were past the end, dangling in the air.

I blushed, trying to find the best way to get him to detach before remembering that he would probably have a big gap in his memory tomorrow. He wouldn't know any of this and I might as well have some fun because when else would I get this opportunity. I shook his frame slightly until he whined a 'what' to make sure he wasn't passing out. I knew I had to keep him awake so I decided to kill two birds with one stone and play twenty questions.

"Who do you love the most, Marvel?" I asked innocently, biting my lip in amusement as he shifted in my lap, humming in thought. He was so malleable when he was drunk; he totally lost his rationale, his defense. He was hilariously adorable. I wondered how easily people could draw information out of him and how vulnerable he left himself but then again I was certain nobody could do him any harm with the way he smiled blissfully and made funny faces.

"The mostest? Niki," he mumbled happily, looking at the screen where the players were still standing there, unoccupied, a bunch of red and blue dots on the screen. I bet it was blowing his mind away right now with how hard he was squinting at them, trying to will them to move with his telepathic powers.

"Not your sister?" I asked, pushing on the question because I wanted to know if he really meant it. Usually people said their parents, their siblings not their best friends. It was clear though that it didn't take Marvel but a minute to blurt out the boy's name.

"I hate Dunya," he mumbled annoyed and I chuckled. I was certain he hadn't noticed he had slipped the name and he wouldn't remember in the morning. He was at that stage where he trusted me with everything. Did he even remember who I was? Did he always get like this?

He was trying to stretch down to reach the controller but it wasn't really working for him so I stopped his hand, trying to get the damned thing myself if he really was that fascinated by it.

"Why?" I asked openly, handing him the black controller, which he accepted with a polite 'thank you'. I guess when your mother beats you about it; you never do forget your manners. I wanted to see his parents. I wanted to know how they raised him spoiled rotten because I believed that childhood experiences shaped everything. For him, his family life might have been even more influencing than mine, what with a murderer dad, a trophy mom and an aggressive sister.

"Because she is mean and annoying. Because she hates me so I hate her back," he blurted out loud, noticing that the argument was collapsing onto itself but not caring because the players were running around now and I couldn't keep a straight face at how stupid they looked going in circles. I was certain if they had let Marvel have a try at soccer in this state, that's what it would have looked like. He ended up figuring out how to kick the ball over and it hit another player in the face, sending him in hysterics. I tried to retain my composure long enough to calm him down. I was confident he was laughing so hard he had stopped breathing.

"But why does she hate you? I thought everybody loved you," I pondered out loud, noticing the way he beamed at the latter sentence, the game forgotten again. He had attempted several times to hit another player with the ball getting frustrated when he failed. He was close to throwing the controller on the floor before I took it away from him, starting to play. This fascinated the raven and he fell silent, motionless on my lap. So still that if he weren't breathing, I would have thought he wasn't there. I had to check with my eyes to make sure his green ones, now as bright as the field, where still skidding with the ball.

"She wanted to be a single child—she didn't want me to be created," Marvel confessed and I scrunched my face in confusion. They were twins. She would have never really had that option. How did she even know what being a single child was? She had never experienced it. Not to mention the word 'created'. How strange even for drunken Marvel.

I was about to ask him to elaborate, my eyes widening in curiosity but the door opened and I blushed as Cato entered his room again, holding a plastic bucket and a bottle of water in his hands. He looked at our position and I expected him to frown but he just smiled, rolling his eyes and calling Marvel's name. I was positive he would not have appreciated me having used the situation to gain information. He might have gone ballistic and I hoped Marvel didn't mention anything.

"You wanna lighter shirt on?" he asked the curly-haired boy who nodded vigorously, crawling up and stumbling by his side, removing his hoodie and dropping it on the floor. I tried to not stare at his body because Cato was in the room but it was hard to not notice the contours running down his spine and the dimples right above the start of his boxers. Rumor was the more noticeable the dimples were the better you were in bed. So not a big surprise his were cute and round. He was tanner than both of us put together making his skin look healthy and soft.

Cato offered him one of his own shirts from the closet and I watched enviously as it draped loosely on the other's body, effectively ending the show and leaving me just with the green envy. I had one and I was certain that it didn't mean the same thing to Marvel who was just looking to get out of the hot hoodie but still I wanted what he had. He seemed so light-headed with no worries and cute, sweet, hot Cato taking care of him. Maybe I would get trashed too one of these days.

After the curly black hair popped from the opening, Cato offered him the already opened bottle of water and though he made a face at the non-alcoholic substance, he resigned, grasping it and putting it on his mouth. I loved how Cato treated him like a baby. He had even gotten one of those water battles with the sippy thing on the top, probably knowing the other would not manage to keep the liquid from washing the floor otherwise. This was definitely a practiced ritual and I wondered if Cato ever got tired.

"Get up on the bed," the blonde murmured, nodding towards the sanctuary and I gaped because he was giving the other every privilege possible. I wanted an inside on their relationship and I was getting it live yet somehow it was much more slick and fluid than I had predicted. I should have known with them having been friends since birth, probably going to the same schools. I wanted a friend like that. I used to have Gale—shit.

I wanted someone who knew I was going to puke my guts out and was willing to let me sleep on his bed, right next to him, snuggly by his side. I wanted someone who gave me water when I was thirsty without me having to ask for it. I wanted someone who kissed me goodnight on the forehead and watched over me as I drifted asleep. I wanted Cato but not just Cato. I wanted Cato to look at me the way he stared at Marvel. I wanted protective Cato at the same time that I wanted slutty, sexy Marvel. It was fucked.

"Does he do this often?" I asked, sitting on the couch, not knowing what to do with myself now that Marvel was snoring softly, clutching the bed sheets. Cato had stared at him for while as the green eyes looked at him back in affection before they closed. I was certain that had been the way the younger boy had thanked the blonde for everything that had happened and for a second there, I couldn't believe it hadn't worked out. They looked so caught up in each other that I would have thought they had been going out for years. What the hell had prevented that from going on? I was so curious. Why was Cato still fighting for Marvel and why was Cato the person Marvel loved 'the mostest'? Who the fuck was Finnick and how could I come around to finding these answers when none of the Mafia children were willing to share?

"Marvie? Nah. He gets very bad hangovers and that turns him off for a couple of months," he mentioned, chuckling and taking his place on the couch next to me, holding a white controller in his hand. He nodded towards the screen and I set the game in two-player mode so now we both were controlling the players. I tried to go easy on him, pretend I was warming up; otherwise it would be very predictable. He was getting better though with every time I deflected the ball from my goal.

"Is Clove gonna be fine?" I asked, trying to make conversation so the silence did not fall between us. We were not at the point of our friendship where we could insult each other playfully on the game. We might never be at that point.

"Oh yea. She can handle her alcohol. When we get wasted it's usually her and I alternating between who takes care of Marv, who likes to play find the bottles," he scoffed, rolling his eyes again and I snorted, nodding my head, having seen the action firsthand myself. Something attracted him to alcohol, probably his Russian blood.

"Who drinks the most?" I continued my questions, hoping that they were casual. I wanted to sound like I was comfortable discussing these topics though I had only sipped beer once and it had tasted so bitter that I had looked at all the other drunk teens, trashing the house, in disgust and confusion. What did they see in this? Was it this freeing? Seeing Marvel laugh so openly without a care in the world, I admit, was tempting me.

"Ha! Well, there's who drinks the most and who handles it the best. Clove and I can drink a shit-ton more than all the other teens put together but Marvel can't be beaten. Once, he went through nine consecutive shots of vodka. That was…a _memorable_ night for lack of better word. At some point he was shirtless, on top of the bar, singing to Britney Spears while Glimmer tried to silence him," Cato was rambling and I laughed along, nodding and pretending to understand his life. I wanted to try it out though because the way he described it made it sound like fun and all my past inhibitions were being thrown out of the window, accused of being fun-spoiling fear. Besides, they seemed to have a lot of experience. I bet nothing could ever go wrong with this group.

We continued playing in comfortable silence and I looked at the clock as it flashed nine forty seven. We would have to check-in in a couple of minutes and I wondered if Cato was going to wake Marvel up for that. He had to be physically present after all. The boy stirred in his sleep, changing his position and the moment he had even let his stomach touch the bed, Cato was staring backwards, talking to him. It was as if he had a radar to sense when the other one was in some sort of predicament.

"No, thank you, Marvie. On your side," he muttered, losing interest in the game and I stopped playing as well until he was ready. He waited patiently for the boy to mumble in his sleep and crawl back on his side before he looked at the screen and we were back to playing.

"No, thank you?" I mumbled under my breath incredulous because it was too adorable. He was treating Marvel so much like a child that I was sure the other one had regressed into that state.

"That was drilled into our heads when we were young. It was never 'stop' or 'bad boy'. It was 'no, thank you'. He reacts to it much more instinctually so it's easier," he explained, shrugging and I didn't comment anymore because it made sense. I did think that it made their mothers seem even more proper and primp. I had never seen a mafia wife before.

"Are you going to wake him up for check-in?" I asked the question that had been on mind and I saw him shrug again; his words were getting scarcer and I didn't know if it was because he was getting tired or more concentrated in beating me.

"I'll try not to. We'll see how Haymitch feels," he drawled. They had a lot of connections in this school and when it came to the dorm head, he was lenient on the boys. He liked them and he watched out for them. I had seen the way he smiled at them in the hallway, asked them for specifics when they didn't smile back and offered them his bachelor pad when they felt overwhelmed. I wondered if he would do the same for me. Maybe he would be a good outlet to try.

A knock was heard, followed by out of control laughter and Cato urged Clove to come in already knowing it was she before having seen her smushed, cute face make an appearance. She propped the door open, her face as bad as Marvel's, Adrian standing behind her, completely trashed. I wanted to see if he was okay. His body mass could not handle the alcohol like the others. He should not have been doing this at all.

"How is he?" Clove whispered, barely able to contain her giggles. I found her annoying with her shrilly voice and her knowing smirks. By the way Cato was staring at her irritated and looking at Marvel stirring in worry, I knew he didn't want her there either. Following his gaze, she entered the room to step next to the bed where his frame was moving slightly with the depth of his breathing. He looked so angelic sleeping that the contrast made Clove seemed even more mischievous and demonic, standing on top of him menacingly.

We continued playing thought I could tell Cato had tensed and was stealing glances every now and then. Clove had managed to awaken the boy, whispering to him gently in Russian while he mumbled sleepily, his responses not sufficient I would assume. He was moaning in annoyance, shifting around, trying to get her to move away and that's when I heard Cato intervene.

"He's fine, Clove. I got him. Now let him sleep," Cato stated coldly and I saw the other girl scoff, turning around once to display her pouting lips before she smirked again, looking at me and I cringed inside, knowing something bad was coming, a joke probably on my behalf.

"I just thought that maybe you wanted to use the bed for _other_ purposes tonight. I can probably sneak him upstairs—" She murmured, smiling slyly and by the way the blonde's fingers clenched around the controller, causing it to creak uncomfortably, I knew he was very opposed to that idea. Though, I didn't know if it was because he was disgusted by the allusion of sex with me or the idea that Marvel would sleep with Clove tonight.

"I thank you for your consideration but frankly I don't think he will be of any use to you tonight, as you can see by his state," Cato snapped back, pausing the game to shift around so now they were glaring at each other. This I had not expected because they seemed like the bestest of friends, always on the same page.

"Don't be a bitch about this, Cato. I care about him as much as you do. I was just offering you an out. You have Tennis tomorrow—he'll keep you up all night," Clove stated distantly, moving away from the boy on the bed so she could stand there, crossing her hands intimidatingly. I saw her eyes flash dangerously for a second before she blinked and it was gone, replaced by exhaustion. She did have a point and Cato would admit that too if he didn't interpret the situation as losing to her again. I could see the very thought of giving Marvel into her hands would kill him more than playing Tennis at six a.m. with absolutely no sleep.

"Marv, do you wanna sleep with me or Clove tonight?" Cato smoothly asked the boy instead, not moving towards him, and they were both waiting for the response, the final verdict.

I looked at the curly-haired boy who scrunched his face before blearily opening his eyes and staring at the room in confusion. He looked like he was going to be sick very soon and I could see the pleasant buzz was leaving him, abandoning him to stay with the nausea and the headaches. If I were Cato, I would have opted out or at least that's what I liked to think, knowing I was lying to myself. I like that feeling of helping somebody out, the hero attitude again.

"You. I feel like crap," he muttered and I saw the victorious smirk grace Cato's lips while Clove rolled her eyes and smiled lightly. She proceeded to leave the room with an 'enjoy' but I knew she wasn't offended. She knew Cato needed this more than she.

From the corner of my eyes I saw Marvel sit up, squinting and wiping his eyes while Cato moved to shut the game and urge me up. For a second, I thought he was kicking me out but then I noticed all the noises that invaded the hallways during check-in time. Everybody seemed to rush over last minute.

Cato moved towards helping Marvel off his bed and guiding him outside. I guess he was joining us at check-in after all. I wondered what Haymitch would say. How much trouble he would be in?

As we walked out of the hallway, I smiled at the way Marvel was grasping the back of Cato's shirt to drag himself out in the bright lights and loud voices. He had not looked at anyone and I doubt he wanted to be talked to at the moment so I kept quiet, watching him from the corner of my eye in case he needed help.

We entered the apartment, now crowded with other boys who were saying hi and then moving backwards. Cato let me go first and after he saw Haymitch smile, nod and check me off the list he dragged Marvel in front of him with an innocent smile on his face. He would play the cute factor.

I saw Haymitch's eyes widen before rolling as he motioned for Marvel to come to him. I could see the sleepy raven hesitate not in fear but in apathy until the blonde pushed him lightly on the back, starting his path forwards. Upon arriving to the couch, Haymitch lightly observed his eyes and breathing, shaking his head before ruffling his hair and turning towards Cato. That was it? No consequences, nothing?

"Is he sleeping with you tonight?" the older man asked and Cato nodded as Marvel returned to his side, muttering about wanting to go back to bed. The two blondes shared a meaningful look that I couldn't quite catch before we moved back to the hallway, walking in silence. I didn't know how to depart, remove myself from that situation. Did I just say good night?

I had to admit that I was scared to confront Thresh on my own. I was frightened by his anger and I was wondering if he would express his frustration at the others to me when Cato wasn't there to calm him down. It was the most helpless situation when you couldn't feel safe in your own room. What was there to do? You had to stay if you wanted to sleep and you had to sleep because school moved on tomorrow, not caring about your troubles. The time kept going.

When I stopped in front of my door, Cato stopped beside me, pulling Marvel back by the shirt, causing him to stumble by his side and look annoyed. They were both staring at me and I didn't have anything to say, my mouth having gone dry. Despite the insanity of today, I somehow felt that I had gotten closer to them and that was worth it. His blue eyes looked over my shoulder at the door that hid Thresh before coming back to meet my blue ones in slight concern.

"If anything happens…" he started and left it at that because he didn't want to sound sensitive. He had said enough for me to get the point though. If I was in danger, I could always keep bursting into his room.

I knew I wouldn't be able to do it because no matter how scary Thresh might be, I wouldn't be able to gather the guts to face them again. I had done it once but that was because I was desperate—I had no other way. Now he would be there with Marvel by his side and as much as I tried to convince myself to not be jealous because their relationship was much more stressful than it first seemed, I felt a pang of loneliness.

I nodded at him, smiling faintly in appreciation before turning to face Marvel and wishing him a good night. His green eyes stared at me blankly for a second before he murmured 'sleep well'. I doubt he was back in reality. I wonder how much of this he would remember tomorrow.

I turned my back towards them, opening the door gently and moving inside. I heard their door slam shut right after mine as I sighed heavily looking around in complete darkness. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, maneuvering my way through the table lamp and turning it on. Thresh was asleep under the covers, a huge lump of stirring muscle and flesh. I let my shoulders slump in relief as I changed into pajamas and slid in bed.

Laying on my side and looking at the blank wall I allowed myself to think about Gale. He was moving on, forgetting about me. Was he even bothered by our fight? Did he just need an excuse so he didn't feel guilty, knowing I was here and he hadn't called? That couldn't be it and it wasn't fair for me not to give him credit because he had been the one who tried and I had been the reluctant little bitch vying for other people's attention. I had thought he would always be there even without me having to try and now I was disappointed.

Even in my guilt and sadness, I couldn't get over his harsh words because I kept repeating in my head that he couldn't image my situation. He didn't know how hard it was. I hadn't done it on purpose. I was locked in this place with pressures on every side pushing me to be something I would grow to hate.

I pulled out my phone to quickly text him. I knew my subconscious would not let me sleep until I did. So through my blurry vision, I wasted one sentence on him, knowing he would not deign it worthy of a reply. The tears kept creating a wet puddle in my sheets and I sniffled, hoping I wouldn't wake Thresh up.

As I clicked on send, I lay the phone face down on the bed right next to my pillow. I had silenced it completely because I didn't want to be waiting for it to buzz back all night. I wanted to give myself some hope and have it crushed in the morning when the day's events would make me forget again.

The phone lit up to signify that my message was send, that I couldn't take it back now. I looked at it again to make sure the words were still there, that they still meant the same thing. It read:

"I am falling for an asshole again and it hurts."


	8. Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained

**Chapter 7: Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained**

_Peeta's POV (Tuesday)_

Grunting in pain, I woke up the next day, hearing the shrilling beeping of the insistent alarm disturb me from my light slumber. I had not had the best sleep what with me imagining what I would see when I looked at the phone the next day. I thought I could make myself forget, tell my brain to shut down, but it hadn't worked that way and though I felt like I was drifting in unconsciousness, my mind was running full speed, pondering out loud and pacing around my body. I had tossed and turned to get it to shut up but it was to no avail, the excitement had already increased my adrenaline. Maybe the text had not been a good idea after all.

I hadn't known how reliant I was on Gale until I had come here. The dependency was starting to freak me out and the only way I could make it stop was by forgetting that I hadn't texted him back. That need to distract myself was probably what drew me closer to the others because everything happened so fast when I was with them that my brain was busy analyzing all the mysteries and collecting all the clues, completely growing tired of the everlasting dilemma in my life: my need to please Gale, keep him happy. In a way, the mafia children were like my drug. They made me feel a range of emotions from thrill to fury to poignancy. They made me come out of my mind to live life. They made me different and the feeling of recreating myself, of trying something new, was refreshing.

I moved quickly to shut the alarm up before Thresh, the titan, awoke to eat me alive. I had yet to exchange any words with him and I was hoping the effects of the drugs had passed now that he had gotten some sleep. I had never seen him in that state of withdrawal probably because he took care of that before he spent that little time in our room. I was grateful to be kept ignorant for once in my life though not that I knew, it was impossible to see past it.

When I looked over at his troubled face that couldn't find rest even in his sleep, I noticed he simply grunted at the noise. He was starting to get habituated to the annoying sound of the alarm and it rarely freaked him out again like it had done the first time. I never got to hear his alarm and it surprised me that he could actually wake up without the need of one.

The time was close to five again and though I tried to convince myself my early rise was because I worked better in the morning, seeing as there were fewer people around me to distract, I knew the real reason was to see how Marvel would fair waking up now that there was a hangover added to the mix. I was a little sadistic. Sure, I could finish some work after my shower but had it been under different circumstances, I would have already done it the night before.

I moved from my sprawl on the bed, sitting with my legs dangling and finally allowing myself the liberty to look at my phone. I had tried to play it cool ever since I had opened my eyes when all I could think was to grab it. I grasped it with my sweaty hands, taking a deep breath and looking at the screen as it lit up. I tired to mentally prepare myself for disappointment. That way I could only go up from there.

One text message: Gale. Yes! Oh, god yes!

I could barely contain my smile and I knew it was stupid to assume all was forgiven but at least he had made a step. At this point, I would rather him fight me than ignore me. I just wanted to hear his voice, think that the war was yet to be lost because as long as he kept in touch I could make sure he didn't forget about our friendship. I could make sure he was fighting back, that he wanted to fight back. Ever since I met him, I had thought he was looking for the first chance to abandon me and that attitude had only served to make me more paranoid.

As I opened the text message and read the three sentences he had sent back I gaped. I had thought he would have been insulting or dismissive but he had jumped to a completely different topic as now it read; it was very recently sent:

"Your asshole is on the internet. Search Youtube for 'For Your Entertainment Cover'; the username is 'SimplyMarvelous'. I find it offensive that you can even compare me to this gem."

So many questions flooded my mind at the moment that I could barely contain my noises of confusion. Maybe I wanted to wake Thresh up because that way he could place things into perspective. In a way he was like my Virgil; he led the way and explained the purposes of this demented place of torture.

Gale only served to complicate the scenario more with his superior tone. I bet he was doing it on purpose. It was his way of showing authority. He was playing the 'I'm smarter than you card' again, telling me that if he were here, he would taken this so much better. He was telling me that I didn't have to play dumb when even he, all the way on the other side of America, could gain information on these children. He was essentially destroying my excuses by undermining how hard it was to be living in this dorm. It seemed the more I knew about the mafia children, the more I had to find out if I was going to understand the way they acted. Marvel was on the Internet? How the fuck did Gale find this shit?

He knew more about the school than I did; he had to teach me his ways of stalking. What surprised me the most though was that somehow, through his mysterious powers of deduction he had figured out that the guy I was crushing on was even named Marvel. The whole agenda was suspicious and I highly doubted he had been lucky. I would definitely question him when the waters calmed down, if the waters calmed down. I felt a tsunami coming and the collateral damage would be huge. He was scaring me. He was becoming too all knowing, almost possessive and I felt like he was controlling my life.

"I won't even ask how. Do you know his real name?" I texted back, still frowning at the event. Maybe it would have been better if he had insulted me. I could brush that off; it wouldn't bother me, get stuck in my mind. He was definitely doing this on purpose and I wanted to prove to myself that he didn't know everything. For a second I wondered why he was even awake before I calculated. It was around midnight over there and he probably had not gone to sleep yet.

I started to undress slowly, waiting for the buzz, wondering if he would give me a name back. I didn't know why I wanted it so badly; maybe because a part of me thought there was a chance that some of his past lay in the Internet, though I knew his parents had probably forced some censoring. Maybe because it felt important, it looked like he protected it and having it would give me some essence of power. It was something personal and it felt like a door opening to even the smallest part of their world.

When I had tied a towel to my waist, the phone gave notice and I move to check it before going to shower. I knew I would be expecting some sort of confrontation in that room and maybe it was better if I were equipped with some weapons. I knew that my mentality might be what caused the problems; however, I couldn't help but be defensive. He had hurt me and I was still going back for another round because I stupidly thought I could change it. I stupidly thought I could handle him—contain him. In the worst-case scenario, I thought I could hurt him back even a little.

"Matvey Aleksandr Solntsevskaya. Pretty sure he goes by 'Sasha'. You're hopeless and dead to me."

I had frozen looking at the text with a shocked grin on my face. Sure he had said he would be ignoring my existence for the remainder of his life yet somehow now that I was thinking of Marvel that seemed less of a big deal. He had actually found a full name and as much as I didn't want to believe it, it seemed real. So Russian that I doubt Gale would make something up on the spot. What would be the use of that anyway?

To humiliate me and make me cry. Okay, there was that aspect but I doubt he would waste time to sink that low. He was more of the 'I will wait for you to crawl back to me' kind of guy. He would make me beg for his forgiveness but I wasn't really in a begging mood at the moment so I put that down on my agenda's to do list.

I was uncertain yet what I would do with the knowledge provided but knowing that information in form of secrets was the only thing they traded and fought about, I had some advantage now. I had some protection and if it wouldn't get me anywhere, at least I could have his attention. For somebody that hates the idea of my obsession with Marvel, Gale was doing a lot to reinforce it.

I would definitely search that name as soon as I escaped the shower alive. I would probably take a look at the song too. He had mentioned he could sing the first day I saw them and I was curious to see how far he could take it. Excellent song choice though—Adam Lambert—I wouldn't put it past him to actually turn that song into porn. I didn't want to lie to myself so I had to admit I was thrilled. I doubted I was the only one. Besides, it wasn't like you could download any porn while at school; the Internet was blocked by a proxy. It frustrated beyond thought though I knew I would never have enough balls to start anything incase somebody walked in, caught me with the hand in the cookie jar. How did the other boys survive? Is this what turned Marvel into a slut? Was he a victim of permanent arousal?

Exiting the room quietly and leaving my phone behind before I was tempted to ask more questions, I ambled to the bathroom, gripping my towel in anxiety, opening the door and stopping immediately because though I had expected his presence, the sight still took me off guard. He wouldn't be doing any damage in that state but the feeling of compassion that overwhelmed me deleted any previous hatred towards the kid. He made you, forced you, to want to help him when you saw him in any sort of pathetic state. It was abnormal. The feelings you had around him weren't _real_; they weren't your own.

He was leaning heavily on the sink, his face in his shaky hands. His entire body seemed tense at the intrusion and I could see he had flinched when the door handle had turned. He wanted to be alone but I wouldn't give him that just yet. I hadn't had it when I needed it. I had had him, kneeling in front of me with his stupid, gorgeous eyes. I wanted to see that I wasn't the only one driven insane by the lack of privacy.

He seemed fatigued and when he looked up through his fingers to see me, I could see how dark his eyes had become of exhaustion, the whites of them bloodshot. He was only wearing his boxers again and I had assumed he had just woken up, ready to shower before practice. Did Cato know he was here? Or Sonny? Would they interrupt—what the hell was my plan anyway? Did I play it cool, pretend that I didn't care about him anymore?

How would I crush his non-existent heart?

Upon spotting my presence he straightened and turned around to stare at me through his sleepy eyes. I could tell by the way he subconsciously held his hand on his stomach that he had indeed puked all night. He must have been feeling horrible. I let the door slam closed behind me but made no move to approach him, standing my ground and glaring slightly. I was the one blocking the escape now and the feeling was emboldening.

I was angrier with myself for being so weak around him but from the outside it looked like I was pissed at him so it worked out at the very end. From the corner of my eye, I saw my reflection in the mirror, my disheveled hair and my furious eyes. I looked miserable, like I hadn't slept in days. But by the way I was clenching my hands without even deliberately adding that factor, I also looked fierce and a part of me wished I could pull of that look in its entirety. I wished I wasn't so lost on the inside.

I thought he would smirk, advertise the fact that he had won, that he had made me like him again yesterday, but he just looked down, pouting in that way that differed from the cute, seductive pout he pulled out when he needed something. This one was in actual dejection and it was much more effective with his eyes glassing up.

He sighed heavily and let himself sink to the floor, sliding his back on the wall until his butt reached the dirty tiles. I couldn't understand how they didn't mind. Did they know how many species of bacteria grew on the floor? They could jump huge distances. He could get cholera for all he knew or some sort of crotch infection. Wouldn't that be ironic now? He probably had some sort of crotch infection, the herps or chlamydia—okay that was mean and uncalled for.

His head dropped on his raised knees and he mumbled something that I couldn't quite catch so I moved forward a little bit, reluctant to kneel in front of him incase he decided to seduce me once again. He had this electro-magnetic field wrapped around him that pulled you into the blissful oblivion of irrationality. At least that's the most I had managed to determine from all the interactions he had with his friends. He was hard to decipher.

"Pardon?" I said distantly, slapping myself mentally for being so pretentious. Did anybody use that word anymore?

He raised his head, his eyes scrunched closed and he leaned back on the wall, repeating the statement so now I had the chance to read his full, red lips too. The color had drained from his face and he looked unhealthy. By the way he refused to open his eyes and the fact that he had not fully turned on the lights, I knew he had a headache. He was in pain but I couldn't feel bad because he had deliberately opened the doors to invite it in. What was the point of drinking that much anyway?

"I'm sorry I decided to molest you," he murmured and I blanched at the apology because I hadn't expected it. I knew it was taking a lot out of him because he had been biting his lip and was barely able to grit it out. His voice sounded so small and the exhaustion made me pity his shaking frame, probably shivering from the cold tiles.

Before I knew it, my body had moved forward on its own and now his eyes were in my range, my naked knees touching the revolting tiles. These erratic movements that happened without my consent were what scared me about being around him. Less logic, more instinct, it was as if I was drunk on his presence.

My hands lay on either side of his feet and I felt the way he flinched, moving backwards at the sudden movement. He was staring at me in confusion and this time I couldn't see even the slightest trace of lust in his eyes though we were both at a state of undress. My heart started to beat faster not because of anticipation but because of pain.

He couldn't have moved on. That was it; I had served my function? All he wanted had been to destroy my friendship with Gale? This stupid fucker. It seemed as if he was regretting it and that was devastating me. My eyes had started to tear up and now he was worrying his bottom lip again, one of his hands moving to my face, gently tracing my tears before I slapped it away, shielding my eyes with my forearm, struggling to wipe the evidence off. Who had not seen me bawling at this point?

"Shit, Peeta. I'm sorry. Did I not say it right? I admittedly don't do this much but I mean it," he rambled on, alternating between biting his lip and looking around in search of a solution. He seemed more adorable and I clenched my hands against the will to forgive him that easily. I should not have entered the bathroom at all.

"You fucker! I hate you so fucking much, you whore," I began sobbing, my voice breaking alongside my heart and now he was trying to get me to embrace him, pulling me forward and all I could think was he was hurting me and cocooning me in his web again where I would suffocate. He couldn't be what I needed; he couldn't protect me.

"I know, little one. I suck, like literally and metaphorically," he mumbled under his breath once I was leaning against his sturdy, naked body, practically on his lap and I snorted, pinching him to be serious.

My hand was resting against his warm chest, tingling in sensation and my crying had not subsided, reaching its peak when his hands wrapped around my waist and his lips kissed me on the forehead again. Why did he make it so hard? He was so good at this; it wasn't fair.

"Why is he so important to you?" he asked smoothly, not moving away, instead leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. I knew he hadn't meant harm with his question; he was simply curious but I still tensed against him, about to pull away. I didn't want to open that topic. It was the gateway to all the other ones.

Looking at his face, he wasn't judging me like every one of my classmates had in my old school. They told me I was hopeless, running after Gale like his puppy. They told him he was using me. They said a lot of things that kept me up at night, things I could never mention to him in fear of him getting mad. If he got mad I would lose him. I couldn't lose him; he was my everything.

He was giving me some space and between my heaving sobs and sniffles, I started ranting without giving my mouth permission. He seemed safe and he was the only one who had cared enough to ask a question about me. He was the only one who thought that knowing me was important, that I didn't want to be treated as if I was already part of the group.

I was speaking so fast that I could barely hear myself. My eyes had blurred out everything to the point that I was certain my towel was touching the floor and I couldn't seem to care. I hadn't expected it to go down like this. I could imagine myself falling, drifting with the gravity and floating in limbo, the air caressing my face.

"He accepts me. I always feel alone without him and now you took him away from me and he won't be nice anymore. He's saying mean things to me and I don't know how to make it right because all these years I strived to never fight in the first place. I don't know how to fix things because all I do is fuck them up. I can't lose him. He's the only thing I have. You don't understand; I hate my family. They don't want me there. I don't belong anywhere," I vented, horrified that I had given up all the information. His eyes were wide with sadness and pity; the sobs came again full power and for a second I thought it was hard to breathe.

He knew now; he knew everything and I wanted to take it back because I was scared of him hurting me. I was scared he would do something to fuck my life up more. He would tell and though I knew there was nothing to tell, I was panicking.

"Hey, hey. Don't cry. I'm here. You're not alone right now," he mumbled against my skin and I shook my head repeating my accusations.

"You're a liar! You don't care. You're just pretending. All you'll do at the end is hurt me. You're not _real_!" I screamed and he flinched so badly at my last insult that I hiccupped, stopping my sobs to stare at the way his entire face contrived in agony. I knew I had dealt a low blow without him having to explain. I wondered if he was going to throw me off which led to another anxiety attack that had me bawling.

His hands were on my face, tracing my hair lightly, trying to get me to calm down but I pushed them away, hiding in his chest and all he could do was hug me tighter, sighing, his face buried in my blonde locks. I was hopeless, a crybaby, yet he had not left. Why was he even here?

"You wanted to know why Glimmer hates me, yesterday?" he started mumbling against my head and I controlled my crying because I was interested in hearing. He had not said anything to comfort me; he had just let me cry it out and now he was offering information back, telling me that he wouldn't have an up on me. He was offering me ammunition so that we could come to an agreement.

"You remember?" I asked meekly, blushing, my crying having subsided, distracted by the sudden shift in topic, but the tears still falling. He chuckled, easing my fearful expression of being caught and confirming it for me.

"I've never had an incident that I don't remember. You were cute though, real cute, and you managed to pull out some good stuff, eh?" He teased, ruffling my hair and I just about purred at the attention. Only he could get me from a state of extreme despair to one of longing. I had heard that there was a fine line between extreme joy and sadness. I was definitely drifting back and forth at the moment without my permission. Maybe he was what I needed. He definitely was what I wanted.

"I was curious," I muttered, pouting cutely and he rolled his green eyes, smiling faintly at me. His easy-going attitude pleasantly surprised me. Everyone else went into frenzy when their secrets were in danger. Cato would have shoved me off him and into a wall probably. Yet he was sitting here on a cold bathroom floor with a splitting headache, right before his practice and wasting time to patiently explain it to me.

When he started his story, I got myself more comfortable, telling him that I wasn't about to let go just yet. I disappointed myself, cradled up in the arms of what was surely to be my death. The Black Widow. He was good; he was really good at attracting people.

He chuckled at me about not falling asleep because the story was long and I rolled my eyes urging him on with a sniff that he interpreted as a warning that if he didn't talk I would be doing more crying to make up for the silence. I was such a little bitch yet I couldn't feel bad about it. It wasn't like crying in front of Gale where I thought every second of his time I wasted would end up destroying our friendship. I had thought it was Gale who comforted me best and yet I had never stopped crying that fast even snuggled in his bed while he played videogames. Crying had been a process that took hours if it came.

"When my mother got pregnant, she was going to have a daughter. My parents knew that after the surgery, they wouldn't be able to conceive again and my father was upset. He wanted a boy; he wanted an heir.

There was this technology at the time, rumored but still very underground. They could go in and physically alter chromosomes of babies, attempting to make them a certain way. The excuse was the remove diseased genes such as the extra chromosome in Down's but everyone knew it would be the beginning of what would come to be called 'designer babies'.

The Bratva had been investing in the business for years and it suddenly hit them to attempt one. The experiments had been bad and babies did not survive past the first few years, some died in the womb. My mom was reluctant but desperate for another child.

They came to an agreement to try and replicate the already existing fetus' chromosomes before they went in to alter. It wasn't like starting from scratch and it would give them an advantage combined with the risk of losing both eggs. I don't know much of how it was done but somehow they managed to make a twin of the egg before attempting to change the gender.

They become obsessed. If you had to change one thing why not alter everything? It was for the baby's sake. Why wouldn't you want your child to be perfect? They worked hours to try and create the scientific definition of beauty but it took time. In order to deliver both babies simultaneously, Glimmer had to stay inside for a couple more weeks despite the health concerns.

I had become the baby that mattered. She has health issues now and she blames me. Well, she blames me for everything actually. She says I'm not _real._ She says I'm not natural. I wasn't meant to exist. She says I stole her life," he finished and the entire time his eyes were glazed over in that way that told me he was reliving it again.

I thought he might cry but I would soon find out that he never cried, that the only person that had seen him tear up was Cato and even the blonde would not relive it again.

I was shocked; I couldn't even control my face into a slightly impressed one. It was lies; it couldn't have been true. He was shitting me. The idea was beyond weird and I didn't know if I could handle anymore of his past. At least for now, I would put my questioning to rest. How could he be so causal about it all?

"I don't believe it. I—you are the scientific defin—that's why you're fucking gorgeous. Shit. This is blowing my mind, for real. I'm not even coherent," I rambled stupidly out loud, pushing back from his chest, without detaching my hands and looking at his face in scrutiny.

He flushed, avoiding my eyes and this was the first time in my life I had seen him shy about his looks. He had no reason to be but he felt exposed. He felt as if he had given away more information that I had supplied and now he was regretting. I had to ease his fear because he had trusted me and I didn't want to let him down. I felt special. He was stuttering and chuckling nervously, one of his hands moving from my waist to scratch the back of his neck.

"That's the part everyone _always _seems to get stuck on. And then they proceed to stare at me—yup exactly like that. You see why I don't tell this story a lot? It's not exactly a good icebreaker. Hey I'm Marvel; I am a designer baby. Like what brand? I don't know yet, Gucci maybe? I mean look at me I'm sorta fabulous," he rambled on jokingly in an attempt to demean the importance of the actual event.

He was trying to play it off as casual, making my reaction one of laughter instead of fearful awe. The experience he had with handling the whiplash told me he was used to being perceived this way when people knew. I could tell he was insecure about it though because he was nervous. I could tell he hated the special attention.

He was flushed red in embarrassment the entire time and the blush made him look more alluring. Somehow the entire story had removed the anger, replacing it by sympathy, and now I was left with just the attraction.

It was easy to excuse my behavior. Now that I knew, I could say that he was created to be eye-catching; he was the perfect child. He was the definition of the most beautiful boy and it wasn't my fault that my body wanted him. My genes were meant to get active once they saw the best possible mate. I was getting so scientific; looking at him silently, that now he was staring back in expectation, making faces to let me know he was confused.

Instead of answering him, I leaned over to press my lips against his and he groaned, his hands attaching to my arms but he couldn't decide whether he wanted to push or pull. In case he wanted the former, I moved closer, our chests sharing the heat of my arousal and he whispered my name in the kiss, shuddering either from the cold floor or the contact.

My hands moved to cup his face and I spread my legs, sitting on his lap. I kissed back harshly because I could see he was hesitating. Why the fuck was he hesitating now? I wanted this. I wanted it, knowing he would ditch me after. I could do this.

I pulled back getting tired of his inaction, glaring at him while he opened his eyes and sighed. I could see he was conflicted but the bulge that was being created under my towel was not going to have any of that. Here was my chance to dominate, step out of my comfort zone. I wondered if everybody got that reaction after they knew the truth. Was I being manipulated by his body? Was I a freak that got hot thinking about in vitro fertilization? Jesus. Was I just attracted to the fact that he was created to be gorgeous? Was he misinterpreting this?

"Peeta, I can't…give you what you want," He muttered, through gritted teeth, his hands flexing against my sides reflexively. His eyes had darkened in lust but he was trying hard to point them towards things that were not naked, panting openly and grinding over his boxers.

I grabbed his face, forcing him to look at me and he startled at my boldness. I looked up through my lushes, pouting with my wet lips. The ones he had stained with his own saliva. I could see he was wavering, physically sliding back and forth in miniscule motions.

"I want what you want," I stated simply, shrugging my shoulders, knowing I was lying but not being strong enough to admit it. I could do this. Maybe if I gave my body this satisfaction, it would forget; it would grow tired. The only reason I kept pinning after Gale was because he was forbidden; I couldn't have him.

If I could have a taste of Marvel, the curiosity would leave. The idea of having the best would be sated and I could see that he wasn't worth my attention. I would get bored of the sex and I would move on with my self-confidence of the roof.

Then I could tell my future boyfriends that I hooked up with the most beautiful boy in the world, scientifically speaking. I was being selfish; he wasn't using me. I was using him.

This speech ran through my mind as I looked at him, wanting to make the decision for him because I was sure the only hesitation was planted in his mind when I overreacted yesterday. He was struggling hard and I was about to make it harder.

"You do? Then, why did—I don't think we should," he was stuttering while my mouth moved to his neck, licking slowly from his collarbone up to the shell of his ear. He was grunting in pleasure and though I had no idea what to do, his noises of approval where pushing me to explore further, touch every portion of his smooth skin. The new experience was empowering. I could smell the alcohol on him and I didn't care; normally it would put me off, scare me but at this point it was just another insignificant factor.

"Sex, no ties, no expectations," I stated plainly, pulling back to face him and licking my lips as my hands slid down his torso to rest on his thighs. His eyes dilated as they raked my body before his hands squeezed my ass and he pulled me forward with tantalizing power. His abs flexed and I stared before realizing that I didn't need to hold back any longer.

The days of stealing glances in boy's locker rooms for storage and retrieval during lonely nights were over. I didn't need to hide and I most definitely didn't need to use my own hand anymore. Maybe I was acting like a desperate whore but Gale couldn't judge me because he had been the one to drive me insane in abstention. He had girls on his dick all the time; he didn't know how hard it was for me to watch others enjoy sex, knowing I couldn't.

My hands touched his quivering body and he mewled his appreciation before going back into serious mode again. I could tell he wasn't' convinced. I wouldn't be either if I were him because I had been the one to burst into tears when he had 'molested' me yesterday. I had been the one to put him against Thresh again.

"No tears, no holding hands, no jealousy, no drama," he murmured in between ravaging the skin of my neck and I kept moaning wantonly to tell him I agreed and that I was listening though the pleasure was making the blood rush to my ears, deafening my logic. I would do everything at this point. Whatever he said, the answer was yes because the pleasure was too big.

His lips were tickling my sensitive skin, his teeth biting and leaving marks. I was getting rock hard under his touch. I had forgotten where we were and how easily somebody could walk in. Where would we take it anyway? It was making me hornier to think it was like a time bomb. We had to hurry; we had to hide. It was adrenaline filling.

He was my first boy and my body was in ecstasy. My hands moved on top of his boxers, my fingers searching to grab a length that wasn't mine only to be disappointed. He was flaccid, making me halt my actions to look at him in surprise and hurt.

My mouth moved open but nothing came out. I flushed, almost tearing up. Was I not attractive enough? Was I the only one invested in this? Why was I so hard it hurt when he didn't seem interested? It startled me enough to stop the flow. Now it was awkward again and he was caught off-guard, previously enjoying my ministrations. Not enough apparently, Mr. I'm-too-good-for-you.

He chuckled which further frustrated me before he pulled me to him, kissing me on the cheek as I tried to push away, huffing. I felt humiliated. He was a bastard; maybe this wouldn't work out.

"I'm still drunk from last night, cutie. Trust me, I'll be able to perform when we need it," he whispered slyly, amused at my pouting. He pulled me to him, rocking me against his crotch and I surprised a groan because he was playing with me, reminding me of how excited I was. I was practically bucking against him as his hand came to cup me through my towel, causing me to bite my lip while he licked his.

His fingers glided down my back playing with the edge of the fluffy, cotton material and I flinched back, grasping it to hold it around my waist. He stared at me in questioning while I stuttered for a reason, not realizing I was blurting truth until my tongue had let it escape. This brutal, unintentional honesty would become a routine with him.

"I-I-Imma virgin—I've never, not even girls. I mean ugh," I blurted, cursing and blushing at the way his eyes widened in understanding. I sighed, knowing I was further fucking this up. I would just not speak for the duration of our rendezvous.

He seemed to be in a dilemma, his eyes glancing up in that cute gesture that told me he was thinking. I didn't want him to back down. It was too early. I needed to start somewhere if I didn't want to go to college with zero experience; it didn't seem right.

"Okay, that's alright but know that I top so if sex is going to happen…" he started saying calmly, laying his hands on my thighs to try and not scare me away. I had known he would probably be a top but having him talk about it so openly flustered me. I wish I had more experience; I was a junior in high school for god's sake and still a virgin. What was I doing here trying to please a nymph? We were not compatible. I wouldn't even be good enough.

"I know!" I stated hurriedly before he could change his mind, leaning in for another kiss before whispering on his lips, "I want you to be my first."

I tried to be as seductive as I could manage and I felt I succeeded by the way he instinctively humped against me even though his body wasn't ready. He had growled at my sentence, biting my earlobe before kissing my neck roughly. I grinned going in for another kiss and this time he opened his mouth immediately, accepting my offer to its fullest before Sonny became my official cock-block. That position had been previously taken by my own awkwardness and insecurities.

"Marvel, hurry. Are you alive in there? I don't hear the shower running," Sonny asked, slamming on the door and I jumped up at the noise, withholding a squeal and running to the communal shower area to hide behind the dividing wall. Marvel chuckled before standing up and following me. The boner was effectively lost and now I was just panting in fear before looking at his amused face. He shook his head, grabbing his toiletries.

"Will you survive this, I wonder?" he mumbled to himself, discarding his underwear and starting the shower, sighing when the cold water hit his face. My eyes slid down his body to check out his member and I flushed when they rode back up and made eye contact with his green ones. He had caught me and here I thought I was being brave. I yelped, turning my back to hide my blush while he snorted.

"You're allowed to check out what you're working with," he muttered, shrugging and continuing unfazed while I peeked under my towel in insecurity. The thought of his beauty being proven made me as uncomfortable as it excited me. It made me feel unsatisfactory, plain. I was like the rest of them he could have, he had had. I was one of many and he was one in a million, a billion probably. He had been born that way without even trying.

"Is this exclusive? How does it work, I mean?" I muttered, trying to look as if I didn't care while in reality the idea of having to kiss the same lips he offered to somebody else hours ago disgusted me. No jealousy, I reminded myself. I still didn't want to feel that used. Could I even feel possessive, knowing that I possessed exactly point zero one of his attention, once in a while on a good day?

He turned around, raising an eyebrow cynically while shampooing his hair with a fruity smelling thing and I felt stupid for having to ask in the first place. Of course yes or not. Maybe? I had to ask. I didn't want conflict; the idea of this entire affair had placed me in the best mood I had felt ever since the hockey game.

"Of course it's exclusive. At least on my side it is. I'm not going to do anything with other people without letting you know that our little pact is over. Unless you had anything else in mind?" he explained as-a-matter-a-factly and I could feel the grin splitting my face.

"No, I mean that's what I was thinking too," I stuttered back, trying to sound confident. I could tell he was finishing up and I hadn't even removed the towel yet, standing there like an idiot with a stupid, childlike smile.

The member wasn't ready to meet Marvel. It wasn't the time; I had to do some man-scaping now that I noticed how clean he was down there, practically hairless. He was also huge and I doubted that came naturally. I could imagine his dad in a serious suit talking rapidly to the scientist about needing his son to be well endowed. This would scar me—it would. Mine was nothing special compared to his and definitely not as primp. How would I have known I was getting any? Up until know I didn't know what that phrase meant.

"Right, perfect then," he humored me, smiling back and I could tell that he knew I had no idea what I was doing. He wasn't going to debrief me though; he would let me wander around lost or lose some dignity by asking. Up until now, I had felt my way through this school and I was certain I could do it again if it was necessary. I didn't use to care about my pride but coming here made me place a lot of value in it.

I heard the shower turn off as he flung a towel over his wet curls and started to dry. He walked back to the main area, now facing me and before I could stop myself I asked the question that I had been trying to analyze, bouncing it around in my mind. My gut twisted when I started and I knew I had to back down but my mouth had gotten the order and the retreat command was delayed.

"So if we are exclusive then what's the difference between this and a relationship?" I mumbled, shrugging and looking at the way he froze on the spot, his head snapping in my direction, eyes shocked. It was easy to see he hated the word and I had startled him. He was now cocking his head sideways, squinting in confusion.

"This frightens me, Peeta. I can't tell if we are on the same page. I thought I was clear this is not a relationship," he started to mention, treading the ground hesitantly. He dropped the towel to his waist before crossing his arms and waiting for a response. He wasn't going to drop this and leave. He needed an answer and I was stumbling over my thoughts as they flew by, trying desperately to catch one so I could say it. What the hell did I want?

"I know. Yeah, I mean this is like what you and Cato had—" I tried to say and he stomped towards me, surprised, raising his arms to motion for me to stop. My mouth snapped shut at the pained, devastated expression on his eyes. He had realized that I knew but he didn't know to what extent.

I thought he had been the one who had ruined their chances; I thought the man-whore just couldn't handle being tied down but apparently he was as hurt by the experience as Cato, if not more by the way he went into a frenzy. His eyes scrambled around once as if mentally searching his mind before he returned to me.

"No! No, no, no, Peeta. What Cato and I had was a _relationship_. And most definitely _not_ what this is! Actually that was the exact opposite of what this is. So far away it's not even funny to me anymore," he groaned, "Why are you doing this? I can't tell if you're joking. I don't do relationships—remember no tears, no drama?" he was rambling on, panicked, motioning wildly with his hands and I would be pursing my lips in amusement if it weren't such as serious topic. Just the thought of having another stable relationship set him off like this? How much had Cato fucked up to scar him forever? He clearly related the word to tears and drama. I was suddenly curious.

"That bad, huh?" I mumbled under my breath, rolling my eyes and he caught it glaring at me suddenly. I shouldn't have taken it lightly because I didn't think it was just a choice of lifestyle anymore. He was avidly against it with every particle of him. He was scared, a scared little boy and here I had been calling him names and labeling him. I was as superficial as the rest of them. Thresh had influenced me immediately and I had never given him a chance.

"Not that bad—actually ugh—Just not what I want. I'm laying my cards out on the table here because I won't bare the brunt when Thresh comes chasing me down with an ax. I can't do that, not with you, not with Clove, not with Cato. It's a big no-no. Please confirm with me that you understand," He asked, leaning on the wall and looking at me in expectation.

His eyes held a sort of desperation that had me screaming for a chance. I wouldn't be like that; I was different. I could be the one because these days that's what everybody dreamed about. Why was he so stubborn? My mind rebelled against it even though I knew it was just this or nothing. I stumbled, biting my tongue because I knew that I was signing a contract with the devil. I looked back at him with the same passion, holding my ground.

"Peeta, please, I like you I really do. You're smart, cute so don't think it's you. But I've been blamed many times in the past and frankly it makes my life a little more miserable with each passing day. You're in my dorm; I can't hurt you," he mumbled to me, one of his hands moving the hair out of my eyes so he could see the blue shining in defiance.

With every emotion he displayed, with every sign of weakness, my will became stronger. I could fight him because he seemed to be giving me a chance to. He was retreating into his shell and I was there, banging against the hard exterior, calling his name obnoxiously.

"What happens when you're in a relationship?" I whispered sadly, lightly touching his lips as he leaned his head on his arm and squinted his eyes shut against the flood of emotions. He didn't want me to see. He didn't want to be doing this.

"I can't breath," he grunted out, looking behind me distantly before staring at me again and my breath hitched at his bright eyes, "I cannot fucking breath, physically and metaphorically. It's suffocating. "

"What did Cato do that upset you, Marvel?" I whispered, sliding my hand from his face down his chest until it rested on his beating heart, franticly trying to escape the chest cavity with the same will that he wanted to escape from my honest gaze and prodding questions.

He moved away, inching towards the door and before he had the chance to escape, I grabbed his forearm again, stopping him in his tracks. He looked at me with a pained expression, begging for me to drop it yet I stood strong because he had been there for me when I cried and I needed to know what had hurt him.

"I promise I won't push anymore if I know. I just want to understand," I pleaded, sliding my fingers down the skin of his arm and wrapping my fingers around his hand, giving it a slight squeeze of encouragement. He looked at me as I mouthed 'promise' again and he nodded once, before opening his mouth.

"He fought with me—with everyone actually. He got restless, jealous over the slightest incidents and violent beyond belief. He hurt people for my sake, sent someone to the hospital. He wasn't the same person; he wasn't the Niki I thought I could give it a try with," he murmured painfully, flinching at the memory and taking a deep breath after he finished. I was still holding his hand, clutching it as if my life was depending on it and looking at him in worry.

"Don't make me go through that again," he pleaded, kissing me on the forehead one last time before heading outside, leaving me stranded in the empty bathroom, my arms hanging loosely by my side and my brow furrowed.

I realized that maybe it was hopeless. This wasn't a sex-aholic case. This was worse. He feared the very concept of being that committed.

He really didn't want me like that, or anyone for that matter, and I didn't know if I did.

Maybe he was a sweetheart after all.

* * *

_**Oh, do you know what you got into?  
Can you handle what I'm 'bout to do?  
'Cause it's about to get rough for you.  
I'm here for your entertainment**_

Checking the video out had not been the best idea in the world for a number of reasons, including but not limited to the catchy lyrics and the shear strength of his voice. I had known the song was meant to have sexual connotations but not until I saw Marvel crawling on top of expensive cars, and rolling around in a fluffy bed, surrounded by many others, had I really heard the lyrics for what they were worth. Now they were stuck on a repeating loop, driving me insane.

He was positively sexy, younger and blonde, with a more child-like face that made you cringe even thinking about the need to jack off to him. He was probably sixteen in the video, a minor, yet he could fool anybody because his voice was so big and his eyes enticing and cunning. He looked even better on the video and by the many comments that screamed 'you are so hot' and 'sexy boy is sexy' I knew I wasn't the only one to think so.

The comment section was an adventure of its own because it was surprisingly very revealing. I gaped at how many people managed to recognize him with phrases such as 'the most beautiful baby in the world' and 'greatest face science has ever created'. I wondered if remarks like that fazed him; I wondered if they made him feel judged differently than the rest of us. I wondered if being different was what he wanted; he seemed to enjoy the spotlight; it suited him well.

Some people were encouraging with compliments such as 'you are a miracle' and 'gift from god'. Others were completely oblivious to his status, asking for more of him and his sweet voice. Overall the video had around a million views and I wanted to ask him if he ever got tired of this lifestyle, the attention. I wanted to know if he really was as superficial as they wanted to make him sound; nothing but his good looks and unorthodox birth was mentioned. Nobody would care about him had it not been because of those two factors. The fact that he was a mafia child didn't matter.

The entire video was shot on campus from what I could tell and it included many volunteers and some reluctant, surprised students that stuttered when Marvel molested them out of the blue. I wondered if the administration knew this was online; I wondered if his father knew. Would he find this funny too? Like he found Marvel's Black Widow status? He would probably think it was advantageous. He had created Marvel to be beautiful for a reason and I shook my head in denial to stop the thoughts from becoming toxic. Marvel was loved and safe. He was their treasure.

_**Oh, I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet.  
You thought an angel swept you off your feet.  
Well I'm about to turn up the heat.  
I'm here for your entertainment.**_

The most interesting thread of comments was the one that actually gave me the final answer I needed. The kids were fighting over which one of them was more attractive, choosing between Marvel and a slightly older boy, very blonde and extraordinary beautiful, who appeared by Marvel's side in part of the video. For some reason, he was the only one to be pointed out despite many others including Cato and Clove being in the video a good amount.

People called him Finnick Odair and even without knowing that I would have guessed his name. He was gorgeous, tall, built like Michelangelo's David, with a pretty face and an addictive attitude. For a second, I wavered in indecision too because he was truly stunning before deciding that Marvel would definitely be the better-looking one. Though Finnick had that air of poise, Marvel could do wonders with his prominent, child-like features and his sparkling green eyes. He really was a gem and I wondered about the thoughts that went past Gale's head when he saw the video.

I wondered if Gale was jealous and I realized that I desperately wished he were if only just to feel the burning discomfort that I swallowed silently since the first day that I met him. I had moved on now and as much as he was trying to pull me back, he couldn't override Marvel's force field, not without physically being here. I hoped he felt the loneliness because the more other people picked me up, the more I started to see that I didn't need him like I used to. I used to think he was my saving grace that without him I wouldn't be able to breath. He was like my drug. Well, I had other drugs now.

Maybe it was healthier that I had moved away. I would never find myself in his shadow and I needed to explore. No matter how many times he repeated that he accepted me and my sexuality, he would never let me experiment. He would look at me differently when I introduced him to that first guy. I was glad I hadn't lived through that. I was glad that first guy had pushed him away when I had been too weak to do it myself.

Though I had to stop thinking that Marvel was my first anything. Maybe my first fuck but nothing close to my first real thing.

He was out of my league and I thought about commenting on the video something along the lines of 'I have kissed him. He's exclusive just for me'. I would never have the guts but I smirked to myself, laying on the bed, clothed and ready, knowing that I could get closer to him than any of them, that this simple, nothing-special, short boy with reserved eyes and a shy personality, who had no friends and was loved by nobody, could get his attention.

In a way he was the boost of confidence that kept me going. He was the reason, I was walking to school, smiling to myself and not thinking about the new students glaring at me. I had to thank him for that. Maybe I was using him, like everybody else did, like I thought he used me. Maybe that was the main reason he refused to be part of a bond, give himself over to someone that he was taught didn't deserve him.

The comments had said that Finnick would always be better than Marvel because natural beauty would always be more appreciated than the fake, scientifically engineered one. I loved how they had openly stated this on a freaking Youtube video. What jerks, fuckers all of them.

If that had stung me, made me close the tab permanently, I can't imagine how much it must have hurt him.

Oh yes, Finnick was his weakness but something told me it was more than their little beauty contest that made Marvel flinch at the mention of the name. They were clearly acquaintances if not more than that. They had a past that I knew I had to find out about if I was going to fight for Marvel's trust and eventually his heart.

I had promised him that I wouldn't push it; I would leave it alone. I wouldn't get lost in his dark past, scrambling to finds leftover clues that hadn't been tainted by his hatred. I had promised him! Yet I knew my personality wouldn't allow me to keep the promise so I would settle for asking others, leaving him out of it, not telling him that I knew; I understood.

I really was hopeless.


	9. Crying Wolf

**Chapter 8: Crying Wolf**

_Peeta's POV (Tuesday)_

I was sitting in the classroom, not socializing with my fellow classmates as per usual, seeing as they were too busy talking about their awesome summer experiences to introduce themselves to me. I didn't mind or at least that's what I thought to myself as I stared at the white board, my Blackberry Bold clutched in my hand.

I had yet to text Gale back and I didn't think I would until after school. I was in a good mood; I didn't want anybody to ruin that. I didn't know what to tell him. I was never good at any of the talking stuff. I could apologize but I think he needed more than that. He needed his friend back and I was being horribly selfish. I needed to make it up to him! I had to; I owed him that.

My Psychology teacher had yet to show up and I was feverishly awaiting her arrival so I could stop feeling like such an outcast. These Harkness tables were not really helping me at all. You could clearly see my friendless status. On one side of me, the seat was empty and I was sure that would be the case if the girl sitting on my other side, pointedly turning her back towards me, could manage it. There seemed to be a gender division and I was the only one not part of the boys' conversation though I could hear they were talking about the usual topic: cars. I wondered how they knew each other so well; I thought these classes were randomly assigned.

I stared at the empty space, trying to pray to God to put Marvel in this class. If that were the case, he would have to sit next to me. I bet everybody would regret letting that seat open then. Karma I would say but somehow it never worked that way for me. It turned out just the opposite. I must have committed crimes in my past; at this rate, it was safe to say I had probably been a murderer.

The door opened again and I turned around to see if any of my saviors had arrived. I gaped, lowering my eyes and sighing in defeat. God didn't want me to be happy today because strolling apathetically with her phone in her hand was Clove, opening the door, looking up only for the time it took her to spot the empty seat, and then moving towards it robotically again, her eyes glued to the small, lit up screen. She had the same phone I did I didn't fail to notice. Maybe we could bond over that.

I looked at her with a smile when she slumped on the chair, dropping her bag carelessly on the floor and continuing to type furiously on her phone. By the way her thin, dark eyebrows furrowed I assumed it wasn't a pleasant conversation.

All her expressions, including her cheerful smile, had some sort of conniving aspect to them. I wondered if that was because of her personality or because I was judgmental. I had yet to warm up to her because she refused to acknowledge me no matter how many times she saw me passing by her in the hallway or the dining hall. I think that she disliked my infatuation with the Russian boys because she thought that was her territory. She thought she controlled them and I think both of them would violently disagree with that statement.

Sometimes, when I really felt annoyed at her, I tried to imagine her like a little pug, barking insistently until I kicked it in the face, squishing its already wrinkled features. As I said, only when I was very irritated.

She must not have been happy to be arguing this early in the morning. By the simple tank top and jean shorts, combined with her hair put up in a sloppy bun, I assumed she was as much of a morning person as Marvel.

Great, they probably slept in every time they fucked and then went to eat brunches. Match made in heaven had I not been there to intervene. I wondered if he would tell her; I wondered if he would stop doing stuff with her. He had promised exclusivity after all and I trusted him, which seemed foolish seeing as he was the reason girls cried at night. I couldn't tell even with my analyzing powers, the ones I took pride in, if he genuinely meant anything he said at the bathroom. My brain was warning me that I was getting too close, too smitten. I couldn't trust my judgment any longer and my feelings were too fragile, too inexperienced to come through for me. I was scared.

She took one look at my face, scowling and my smile dropped faced with her unnecessary aggression. I was just trying to be nice; she didn't have to be such a bitch. My shoulders slumped, realizing that if it were for her I would never make it in their clique. She must have been the hardest one to impress and though I wanted to shut the little pug up, I wanted her approval because I didn't want her in the way.

I went back to staring at the whiteboard in resentment; she huffed in that 'I'm better than you' tone. I grit my teeth. Where was the psych teacher? And were these seats permanent? Did I have to endure her grumpy nature all the time? I didn't know whether I was bad at this whole friendly new kid impression or if everyone just automatically was distant and cold in this school. I was trying goddammit. They all acted as if they were above me.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Clove look at the clock before sighing, dropping the phone on the table a little more harshly than the poor thing deserved and standing up. She headed for the door again but not before turning towards me and muttering demandingly,

"Make sure no one touches anything."

It sounded like an order and I looked at her, not amused, not giving her any sign that I had agreed to watch over her stuff. I wasn't a servant to her majesty. She didn't need any because my look didn't deter her as she strolled out of the door again. Spoiled brat.

I didn't know where she was headed to and I was calculating in my mind how angry she would be if I hid the phone and pretended somebody had taken it. I doubt she would take the joke lightly. She would probably cut me to pieces; she seemed like the 'I own a lot of sharp knives' kind of person. Even when she stared at you, she glared daggers.

The door slammed behind her and nobody seemed to notice she was gone so I leaned back, looking at the vibrating phone from the corner of my eye. Hers seemed much more damaged than mine and even though they were twins, I knew it was hard to mistake them for one another, what with the scratches completely shaving off the deep black luster of her device. I was tempted because it kept ringing this annoying tone and shaking the table. Why had she left it there in the first place?

I looked around once, glancing at the door and biting my lip before reaching out and placing her shit phone on my lap. It was easy to maneuver around because she didn't have a passcode, big mistake bitch, and because I had the same phone so it wasn't hard to figure out how to unlock it. My classmates had not spared me a glance ever since I walked in and they did their preliminary gawking. They must have deemed me boring and useless.

The screen lit up ominously and I noticed to my luck that it was already on the appropriate text messaging thread. She had not bothered to close it. I glanced at the name and my eyes widened noticing she was texting Marvel who she conveniently had on her phone as MarvelousMarvie with a series of smiley faces behind it. I puked in my mouth a little. Had to swallow it though, along with my inhibitions because it was fate that I stumbled upon this conversation.

The phone vibrated again in my hand, waking me up from my trance of indecision, as a new message got added in, pushing everything up and refreshing the page back to the bottom. I blinked awake, scrolling up again and this time speed-reading to finish before another message got sent. It was as if the device was calling me, pleading for me to get revenge on its abuser.

I scrolled up, glazing my eyes down their conversation, skimming through misspelled lines before she came back. This was bad. This was really stalking; privacy violations but hey if she hadn't been so mean about the entire thing, I wouldn't have been here with her phone in the first place. I doubt she cared; she probably liked the voyeur aspect of it. Had she done it on purpose?

_**Clove, don't be difficult. **_

_**We had an arrangement.**_

_**You gotta give me some notice.**_

_**I gotta find replacements.**_

_**This is not me firing you from a job.**_

_**I doubt you will have trouble **_

_**finding replacements anyway. **_

_**You are being mean. **_

_**You at least owe good-bye sex. **_

_**Stop being unreasonable. **_

_**We fuck, that's cool. **_

_**Now I have somebody else. **_

_**We don't fuck anymore. Still cool.**_

_**That's sorta our relationship. **_

_**Fine, fine. Be a bitch about it. :(**_

_**Once won't hurt you know. **_

_**We can sneak that in. ;)**_

_**That's not fair. Now do me that favor.**_

_**I know he's in your class.**_

_**What do you think I am? **_

_**An escort service? Get outta here.**_

_**My god. A number is all I need Clove. **_

_**I'm not telling you to fuck him and **_

_**let me know if it's worth it.**_

_**I can guarantee you it's not.**_

_**He's a virgin with absolutely no experience. **_

_**He'll bite your dick off and **_

_**you'll come limping back to me. :D**_

_**Your eloquent, sophisticated opinion is as**_

_**always much appreciated. Number please. :)**_

_**...**_

_**Clove? Am I getting the silent treatment?**_

As I reached the end of the conversation, I was smirking in victory. I pulled out my own phone from my pocket, quickly plugging his number in. When I went to write his name, I typed in Sasha because that doubled the excitement whenever he would text. It wasn't creepy. He was asking for it anyway. I wouldn't let jealous Clove and her good-bye sex get in the way of anything. I was certain that my face had been permanently set in a frown when I read her texts. She was so crude and she stupidly thought that being a slut was a merit these days. Maybe I would _bite_ her head off.

The door opened and I panicked inside, my stomach dropping like an elevator before sliding the phone subtly back on the table as Clove came in again yawning. By her wet hands I assumed she had gone to the bathroom. Why didn't she just use the dorm ones? The school ones seemed unsanitary. I also noticed looking at her accentuated eyes that she had put on her make-up. She looked a little more put together.

I looked down, trying to seem innocent as she came back to my side, picking up the device and looking at the texts. She threw the phone on the table again and I flinched, smiling slyly, trying to hide my happiness with my bangs. How had that poor thing not been broken yet? Was this the first time it suffered Clove's anger?

"Where you touching my phone?" She questioned curiously and I looked at her, miraculously suppressing my panic, widening my eyes and pouting. What gave it away? Did I change anything? Would she remember?

"I thought it was mine. We have the same one," I mumbled, raising my phone off my lap so she saw it. Her expression was unimpressed and definitely unconvinced as she snarled her upper lip. Her eyes turned a darker shade of brown and she stared me down but I wasn't about to submit.

She had lost; I had won. Stupid simple.

"What are you, a moron?" she snapped, shaking her head dismissively and staring forward in an annoyed expression. Her fingers were spinning the phone on the table but she wasn't making a move to answer it. I was trying to secretly hear if he would text again. Would he crawl back to her? I had to make sure he was distracted.

I didn't know if she had figured out my ploy but I doubted it because she didn't give me any credit. She didn't think I had the balls. That might come in handy I realized for the first time in my life. Maybe being underestimated wasn't that bad; it gave me an angle.

I shrugged, looking down, unfazed by her attitude. I was scared of her when she seemed so high on the pedestal but right now it seemed as if Marvel shoved her off and helped me climb up there with him. The image of her small body, flailing around as she falls was entertaining me mentally.

My fingers moved against my phone, my eyes dropping down and the grin appearing on my face. I was ecstatic and my stomach was doing somersaults in happiness.

_**Hi pretty boy.**_

_**Lol. Who's this? ;)**_

_**How are you feeling? :) - Peeta**_

_**Like Clove is constantly**_

_**stabbing my brain with a knife. **_

_**Hey cutie. **_

The teacher walked in and I lay the phone facedown on the table to prevent myself from getting distracted. I wanted to make a good impression and I wanted him to think he had to wait for my texts. I wouldn't be the desperate one who suffocated him. I would pace myself after all now I had a way to communicate. I didn't have to depend on his awful timing.

I didn't see Clove's phone vibrate again and I smiled pleasantly, rolling my eyes every time she decided to slam it against the table. It was a repetitive cycle of spin around, slam; it was getting quite annoying for everyone involved. She ignored me for the entire class, pretending I didn't exist and I returned the favor, taking notes and glimpsing at the facedown phone, throwing it a excited smile now and then.

It was only when we were standing up to leave that she turned towards me again, hesitating before walking out so I looked up at her in expectation, raising an eyebrow. This better be an apology.

"You're welcome," she mumbled with a straight, if not slightly irate, face before she walked passed me, bumping on my heavy bag and sending me to find support on the table. How could a small girl manage that, I didn't want to know.

I was lost, trying to gain some understanding of my rabid thoughts until the woman I identified as my psychology teacher touched me lightly on the shoulder and asked if I needed directions.

I was the only one in the class and I muttered a 'thanks', rushing to the next building. Running always seemed to clear my brain.

Wait so who won?

* * *

I sat down next to Cato in English and I gave myself a pat in the back for figuring out how to get to Brighton on time. Students were still shuffling in when arrived and it seemed as if they were moving so slowly in the morning that it took them longer even with my random detours of getting lost. I refused to ask for direction because I wanted to feel in control.

Cato had his face down on the table, his hands supporting it when I walked in. He was in a simple, white t-shirt. He was going for that whole I'm Slim Shady, or whatever that kid was called, and I'm too cool for everyone that tries too hard. I doubted he had even changed from the one he went to sleep with. But then I remembered he had Tennis and that had been the cause of all his fatigue. It was a good thing I switched my thoughts over to his sport because the idea of him and Marvel sleeping together made my stomach churn in jealousy.

When I pulled the chair, attempting to make the move as silent as possible and failing when I heard it screech to a stop, he looked up at me through his swollen eyes that were surrounded by dark bags. He hadn't slept at all and his hair was messy, spiking in all directions and making me want to smooth it back down. My hand itched but I didn't dare no matter how soft his hair looked.

"Rough night, huh? How did he do?" I mumbled, looking around to make sure nobody was tuning into our conversation. He had turned to face me, his head still on the table and his eyes unfocused. He groaned at my question, rolling his eyes and snorting sarcastically. He was cute when he was too tired to use his big personality and bad boy aura.

"He only puked four times, which is an improvement. I don't think I can eat spaghetti again," he muttered, making a disgusted face and I smiled sympathetically, shaking my head in compassion. He was a trooper for deciding to go through that. I didn't think I could do it.

"Why do you sign yourself up for that?" I asked curiously, giving him a pitiful face and he sighed heavily, closing his eyes before opening them up again. They were a darker shade of blue this morning; they looked slightly different.

"Because I'm a fool," he mumbled, hitting his face on the table repeatedly, making me laugh, before he turned towards me again with a slightly more cheerful expression, "Nah, because he can't do it on his own and I sorta care a little for the brat."

He rolled his eyes, making his last confession seem like a joke and I humored him, knowing fully well that he sorta cared a lot, maybe more than was healthy, for 'the brat'. He had spent the entire night up just so the other one wouldn't be alone when he vomited. It sounded like torture, the retching sounds and the gagging and the stench—oh god the stench.

"How do you stand the smell?" I mumbled out loud, staring at him in wonder. I really was curious. He shrugged once seemingly unfazed before responding. The class had started to chatter loudly and Brutus strolled inside with a pile of books under his arm and a briefcase. He had on a trench, which made him looked too sophisticated for the way he acted. I wondered fi he was one of those sarcastic, book critiques that went to wine tastings and ate cheese cut in cubes and served with crackers.

"I'm used to it. We drink a lot. Puking is nothing. Besides Marvel doesn't usually like to eat much before he drinks so it hits him more. His vomit is like baby vomit all water—am I getting too detailed here?" He chuckled lightly, looking at my contorted face. I was staring at him, having gulped and pursed my lips. I might have twitched mentally and physically during the speech. First of all, the word vomit is as gross as the actual action. Second of all, what the hell was baby vomit and why had I been blessed to not know this until now?

He sat up suddenly, pulling his phone out of his pocket and squinting at it. It seemed like he was struggling and I asked if everything was alright when he had stared at the screen for longer than normal. He turned around, sighing again and debating whether to tell me or not. I inched closer in curiosity, practically oozing the plea: 'divulge your deepest, darkest secrets to me'.

"Um. I forgot to put in my contacts this morning so I can't really see shit. Read out loud for me?" He asked, shoving his iPhone in my hands and I didn't look down at the device because I was gaping at him. He had spoken so fast that I was sure I had missed the point. All I knew was there was a white iPhone 4S, blinking and vibrating against my hand. It wanted my attention.

"Jeez, is this a big deal?" he mumbled, blushing at my stare and I looked down apologizing. It wasn't a big deal and I was a fool for making it such. I was just assuming that a perfect creature like him had no common imperfections. This was pretty interesting though and at the moment, it had left him vulnerable, dependent.

"I just didn't know that's all. How did you manage Tennis, if you don't mind me asking?" I asked hesitantly, changing the topic to make it seem like that aspect surprised me most, and he shrugged, going back to his laid-back attitude. I guess he had accepted my cover-up. He tensed up when he got defensive and his eyes became guarded. I could never predict when any of them would get distrustful at this point; they had such strange soft spots. Though I was certain he had two main ones: his academics and Marvel.

"A lot of people have contacts here. Clove does—I bet that came out of left field. As for Tennis, that just didn't happen today. I lay on the side and slept on my ass while my coach gave me ultimatums. It was fun," he rambled on explaining and I nodded in understanding. He was even sacrificing his sport for Marvel. He better be right when he said that the shorter boy didn't like to drink a lot. A couple more of these nights would leave them both suffering the consequences.

"Will you read?" he asked, nodding towards the phone and I stuttered a 'yes' before opening the texts messaging, struggling to find it comically, and staring at all the highlighted ones. There were five new ones and I clicked on them one by one, reading them out loud one after the other, not thinking twice while he hummed in approval. He was popular and he seemed to be the problem solver of the group. Maybe I needed to get his number too. I started in awe at the total number of threads he had because it was over sixty. How did he have time?

_**Adri (Tue, 8:16am): Coach says 'fuck you'. You're first on the ladder this week. Match tomorrow—he will kill you if you lose. **_

_**Dunya(Tue, 7:23 am): Hey, Cato. Make sure Marvel submits his NCSA app today. Father says he needs to be recruited. Thanks. **_

_**Sonny(Tue 6:12am), : Marvel's NCSA app due today. Knowing him, it won't be done. Please and thank you—I have to stay out in Boston with my folks till the weekend. But Rub-Cube this Friday, bitches! ;)**_

_**Katia(Tue, 9:34am): Rubix Cube dance this weekend. Pregaming in Boston or the lake? Also, who's buying? Marv and I are out from last night.**_

_**Sashi (Tue, 7:32am):**_** Spasiba, brat.**_** I owe you. **_

_**Sashi (Tue, 9:21am): Are we doing Rub-Cube this Friday? Clo, Sonny, Adri and E say yes. I won't go without you.**_

_**Sashi (Tue, 9: 47am): And before you text back, NCSA app submitted. On a scale of 1-10 how proud are you?**_

As I finished reading, he was chuckling. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from asking any questions though so many of them where running around in my mind. They had a way of giving me only a glimpse before taking it all away. He wasn't asking me to reply to anything so I was sure this could wait. He extended his hand his hand to ask for the phone back and after moments of hesitation where he was raising his eyebrows in questioning, I gave it up. Somehow I wanted to scroll up his last conversation but I knew it wouldn't be that easy with him. He pocketed the iPhone after giving it one last hopeless look before he grinned at me slightly.

"Thanks for that, bro. You wanna come to Rub-Cube with us?" he asked casually, looking around at they way Brutus was staring at all of us apathetically, waiting for the chatter to die down so we could begin. Passive aggressive Brutus was as amusing as the aggressive one.

"I don't know what that is but sure," I whispered back when I heard everyone quiet and he snorted at the way I signed myself up for destruction without even asking for explanations. I didn't care at this point. It said dance and though I didn't like to be on the dance floor I would go because it sounded like I was now part of the group. Everyone that mattered from my dorm was going and I was being asked. Why not? Besides, alcohol was involved and I had heard it taught people how to dance. I had expressed a wish to go with them drinking; I had the chance now.

"You'll love it," he muttered back before leaning on his chair and shutting up like he usually did when we got to English class. I could tell he couldn't take notes because he couldn't see shit that was close to him. I assumed he had Hyperopia, far-sightedness. That would be why he had no trouble seeing the board yet he couldn't make out the small letters of the text messages. I wondered how he would survive the day like this. I also wondered if his condition affected his Tennis performance. By the looks of it, it didn't because he was first on the ladder and he didn't even seem surprised by the news.

Brutus made us read that class. We worked on "Barn Burning", short story by Faulkner. I had read it before and I could see that a couple of other people were ahead too. I guessed he started us on something simple but the list of books he gave us last time told me how advanced this class would get.

I noticed with fascination that he knew Cato wouldn't be able to read as he never called on him. It was usually Katniss and I who got to read. My name was officially 'newbie' though I made an attempt to introduce myself. I didn't know what that meant, the fact that he placed me and her in the same category. Did he hate us both?

Katniss had to not taken to sharing the reading with me and she had completely ignored my presence. She had glared at me when she had seen me next to Cato, smiling at the blonde and giving him attention. I didn't want to make enemies but I didn't really have a choice. I had tried to smile at her faintly when she walked in but she had pointedly ignored everyone, including Brutus who had said 'good morning'. She was clearly upset though I didn't know what at. She always seemed to find something.

My phone vibrated in my clammy hands, sending my heart into a frenzy and I looked at Brutus who was talking and then looked down at my hands, trying to appear casual. I was just staring at my crotch—I mean who didn't do that. I opened the thread, a smile slipping on my face.

_**Meet me on the bottom floor of Brighton,**_

_**next to the handicapped bathroom. ;)**_

_**Don't let Cato see you. He'll flip a shit. **_

"Are you not going to read for us, newbie? Is this a pause for suspense—I can't tell," Brutus murmured and my head snapped up to look at him in fear. He was smiling at me in amusement and my classmates were giggling. I looked at Cato on my side, remembering the text, and he was staring back at me without humor. His lips were pursued and his head was cocked sideways. He wanted to ask but his pride wouldn't allow him so now he was just sulking. He was already suspicious? What the fuck?

"What are we doing here?" Katniss asked in her monotone voice and I turned towards her, smiling in apology. The entire class had fallen in silence and I was sure they were only _trying_ to make this situation more awkward. Brutus was happily indulging them, punishing me. I would never look at my phone again.

"We are doing nothing here it seems," Cato muttered on the other side and I sighed mentally at how the two enemies were now ganging up on me. It was strange how fast his mood had soured. I looked at his blue eyes that now were guarded again. He wasn't giving me a way out and Katniss was only smirking at this. I looked up at the older man, pleading with my eyes for intervention. The others were fidgeting awkwardly by now. Brutus, save me, you fucker.

"Place the phone facedown on the table and continue reading," he sighed, touching his temple, still leaning on the desk. I didn't know who huffed louder, the boy beside me or the girl across. I didn't pay any attention though. I quickly typed something, causing Brutus to roll his eyes before I gave the phone up, settling it on the table, pushing it a little beyond my reach.

_**I'll be there. **_

* * *

The class ended and I grabbed my bag, rushing a little more than necessary to go outside. I needed to leave that tense atmosphere. It felt as if a spark was all that was needed to start a fire. Cato had given me the silent treatment though I knew after that awkward punishment I wouldn't be able to sneak in a word anyway. I had read everything with a blush covering my face from embarrassment. Brutus had made no other comments but I still felt like I had let him down. So I had stayed put, listening without a lapse in my attention for every word he had to say. I wanted him to somehow show me I was forgiven.

When I thought I had escaped the cavern, my feet touching the outside tiles of the hallway, I felt somebody grab my bicep, dragging me and turning me around. I yelped, flinching and turning to come face to face with Cato's frustrated, blue eyes.

"Don't go. You are making a mistake," he whispered harshly, his grip tightening until I was sure I had shown signs of pain. He was scaring me and the way he was holding me close enough to intimidate but not close enough to look suspicious was causing me a lot of discomfort.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," I mumbled back, shading my eyes with a trace of indifference. I had to play dumb because I didn't think I could handle a confrontation with him. Why was he interfering? Was he jealous? Did he feel threatened?

"You insult my intelligence. Clove told me so no need to play this game. I'm telling you not to do it," he muttered, dragging me out of the way so that the others could keep shuffling out without any problems. I looked at their passing frames in pleading, hoping someone would make a move to release me from my cage but no one cared. Katniss looked at me once with her blue eyes; she was really pretty when she wasn't scowling I realized. I mouthed 'please' and she stopped in her tracks, hesitating, staring at the hallway and then back at me, trapped by the wall and his bulky, sexy body.

Cato noticed my attention had left his furious face and he looked back, doing a double take when he noticed it was she, not just anybody. Now she had to participate, stepping forward all the way by my side. He glared and she sneered back at him. I could almost feel the electricity passing through their blue eyes when they clashed in a mixture of hatred.

"Done bullying others, Cato?" she mumbled, not making a move to acknowledge me yet. He growled, not moving away from towering in front of me and I didn't dare make a move to either side. I stayed frozen in fear.

"Don't get involved, Katniss. This doesn't concern you," he muttered, willing her away with his deadly eyes. She wasn't having any of it though and I was glad I had chosen a sturdy defense.

"It doesn't concern you either. It's between me and him," I heard myself snap, crossing my arms and they both looked at me in surprise . It was about time they acknowledged my existence. I was feeling like a third wheel again and this was about me. The phone was vibrating in my back pocket and I was getting more frustrated with every second, Marvel had to be kept waiting. What would he think about my not showing up?

"It concerns me if you're gonna come sniffling to my room like a crybaby," Cato snapped back at me, his tone toxic and I saw Katniss bite her lip at the way I blushed, hurt. I had thought he was nice; I had thought he had my back. Why was he doing this? Betraying my secrets to this random girl that was being more sympathetic towards me at the moment than the blonde I used to think was my defense. His eyes softened at my hurt and I took my opportunity to hurt him back. I wouldn't be the only one made a fool.

"You're jealous because you screwed up your chance with him!" I practically yelled at his face and the blow hit below the belt, his teeth baring and his eyes squinting shut for a second. I could see he was trying to control his breathing and I took the chance to move closer to Katniss who was staring at me, startled. She hadn't expected it either but her expression was saying 'even I wouldn't say that'. I felt a tinge of guilt before his angry eyes overrode it.

"You little, hopeless fool. I will enjoy seeing him tear you to pieces," he mumbled, glaring at me again before stomping away. I had to pout to stop myself from crying in anger and resentment. Why did he have to be so mean about it? I thought we were just getting along. I thought he liked me; I liked seeing his smile. Why was he making me choose between his friendship and Marvel's offer? He didn't do this to Clove; she could fuck him without consequences but when it came to me I wasn't good enough.

Katniss was still standing next to me, silent and I looked at her with my defeated eyes. She shrugged, grabbing my arm and moving me forward. I followed, not knowing where she was leading me. My other hand shakily found its way to my phone to look at the texts.

_**Are you showing up? I'm confused.**_

_**Peeta, is everything okay?**_

_**Imma go eat but umm text me **__**back at some point, yea?**_

I groaned, wanting to throw the phone against the wall. Katniss looked at me again, silently asking if I was okay and I sighed, nodding back at her. She was the last person I expected to be accepting of my problems.

"Where are we going?" I mumbled, removing my arm from her cold hands and just following her out of pure will. I had nowhere to go anyway. Had that been Cato's plan? To keep me long enough for Marvel to leave? He was so cunning when he was desperate.

"The cafeteria. It's lunch time—you have 6th lunch today I'm guessing?" she asked though she wasn't really looking for an answer. She was staring away and if she hadn't been the one to stop Cato from ramming me into a wall, I would have thought she highly disliked me and wanted me to leave her alone. She had that air of superiority about her that turned you off. I could judge her though. I at least owed her some tolerance.

"I guess so," I muttered back unnecessarily, not willing to share any other information with her. I didn't know how much she would know, "Are you a junior?"

"Yeah, been here since freshman year. Why were you provoking him?" she inquired, now looking at me with her icy eyes for the first time and I shrugged because I felt dumb and I had nothing to say.

I was provoking him because a part of me didn't like to be pushed to corners. As much as I tried shutting that part up, it wouldn't go away and slowly it had started to grow, take over. I provoked him because he betrayed me and though I knew I was being hypocritical, I wanted to be selfish. I owed him nothing and it was human nature to want what's best. That was the reason I wanted both him and Marvel, the reason I couldn't decide.

"Because he is an ass," I muttered back and she snorted, nodding at that. I earned a faint smile and it didn't make my heart flutter like Cato's did, it made me feel guiltier. Here I was feeding the person he hated with information. I couldn't be doing this no matter how much of a tool he was. I had to choose a side; I couldn't hurt my dorm. I couldn't be the double agent, the one who played all fields. I had chosen my haven and I had to stick to that decision.

"I think he is right though as much as it pains me to say it. I think Marvel is a bad choice in general—not a safe bet. A good fuck sure but not for the light-hearted ones," she rambled on not looking at the way I gaped and stopped in the middle of our walk. She turned around once she realized I wasn't going to get over this fast enough to catch up.

"How did you know?" I muttered under my breath to myself as she stepped in front of me again, crossing her eyes and looking at me in slight confusion. She often made me feel like an idiot and I doubt I wanted to be around her for too long.

"There are two things that get Cato riled up like that: when you take away his Marvel and when you mention Finnick Odair. It's sorta common knowledge. Do you want to eat now?" she asked dryly and by her enunciation I noticed that the second statement seemed to be more important than the first. I rushed to walk by her side, pushing the boggled look away in return for a disinterested one. I couldn't look too excited but I secretly loved that she had mentioned Finnick herself. What a doll.

"Who's Finnick Odair?" I asked, shrugging, and she gave me a look that said she wasn't buying my simple questions. She knew not to get involved but seeing as she didn't really like Cato, she had no problem spilling out information left and right. She was perfect for the job. I would never get this sort of leverage with the mafia children. I think she wanted me to know because she figured I would mention it to get him more flustered. She was using me to make his life worse and I was going for it.

"He used to be a senior when Cato and Marvel were freshmen so I didn't get the opportunity to meet him. He comes to campus frequently though. Marvel is like his protégé in a twisted 'they might have fucked' sort of way. He is easily the bane of Cato's existence. He's overtly sexual and likes to pretend that he doesn't notice how much his affectionate attitude irritates Cato," Katniss explained in her crude language. I noticed that she didn't have a problem talking and rambling if she was doing it to hurt others. I also noticed that my shy personality was somehow enabling her to become more confident. She was feeding of my attention.

I nodded, pretending I understood what this new character was all about and looking at the big cafeteria coming into full view. I had not had a chance to eat there yet because last night I had avoided that social corner. Today I was walking there with someone though; I wasn't doing the long walk of shame.

We entered the hot area, smelling the variety of food and I quickly scanned over the seating. It was divided on two sides, one for the underclassmen and one for the upperclassmen. The tables were mostly round, large enough to seat ten people and more if they decided to squeeze in, wooden with a homey feel.

I noticed there was another exit out of the dining hall, on one side of a long, square table. That I would learn was the popular kids table, invaded by loud, obnoxious boys and off-limits to anyone who wasn't invited. I doubt they stopped you but by the look of that lone kid at the edge, I assumed they gave you the silent treatment. The poor boy was trying to laugh along with the jokes, sitting too far away from the group that was leaning in and piling on top of each other. I felt bad. It was almost as if I saw myself in him and it send a shiver down my back.

It came to no surprise that Cato was already there, laughing loudly with a bunch of other boys, all big and jocky-looking with silly grins and toolish clothes. They looked like the football team at my old school but knowing how strange this school was none of them probably played the sport. Sonny was there too, practically crawling on top of the table, trying to explain something to the blonde. His voice was very distinct almost as much so as Clove's giggle.

He was wearing one of those fitted Yankees basketball caps that was white and navy blue. By how much it was being passed around in the table, I had no idea who owned it. It could easily be Cato's because he was from the city and because he ended up snatching it from another boy that I had yet to meet, placing it on his head backwards. He was the ultimate tool.

I had to roll my eyes, not noticing that I had stopped to stare until somebody bumped into me, wetting my shirt with some sort of sugary, red drink. The boy didn't even apologize and I cursed under my breath, moving away from the area towards the salad bar. I started to place food on my plate while simultaneously searching for a seating space. Katniss had disappeared on me and I was pouting trying to assess the situation, knowing that I would be stuck, waiting like a fool holding my plate if I didn't make a decision fast.

I found Glimmer's golden locks on an empty table that she was invading all to herself. I took a deep breath, looking at the boys' table again in longing, my last trace of hope disappearing, as I headed for the only other Capitol person I could spot. I stood by the table, stuttering. Glimmer looked up with her beautiful eyes at the same time that Cato turned around in his chair, noticing my presence. My tongue rushed in panic.

"You mind if I seat here?" I blurted at her surprised face and I heard Cato giggle immaturely to his friends while she nodded still unconvinced. She seemed to understand my dilemma, urging me further by pulling out one of the chairs herself when she noticed the blonde wouldn't stop his teasing. She patted the wooden seat and I smiled in appreciation. She was an angel. I sat myself down, pushing the plate on the table and leaning my head in my hands until my brain suppressed his jabbing, smooth voice.

When I looked up, she was staring at me but she didn't look annoyed. She was merely smiling faintly in that pitiful way. She probably thought I was some sort of rescue animal, scratching pathetically at the door of the shelter, wet and dirty. Why had Katniss abandoned me?

"Hi. I'm Glimmer. I do believe we are in the same dorm. Please pardon Cato and Sonny. They get over excited," her voice spoke to me and it held a melodic quality when she wasn't using it to scream at her brother, the twin brother she hates and I'm doing embarrassing stuff in handicapped toilets with. Or I wish I were.

"He is back to hating me," I muttered, shaking my head in a defeated way that told her I had stopped trying to care. She smiled a little, her eyes crinkling on the side and I couldn't help thinking she was so gorgeous. No wonder it was so easy to modify Marvel; he already started out as perfect as his sister. Yet she didn't get credit at all. It was unfair! She made the miracle happen; she was the lucky egg.

"I am sure that is not true. Cato comes off as intimidating but in reality he is just a puppy," she mumbled lightly, forking her salad and I was impressed by how good it looked.

I looked down at the few lettuce leaves in mine, vowing to try harder next time. It didn't even look appetizing. I should have gone for the hot meals but the line was too long and I feared there being no seats by the time I had the food on my plate. I also didn't want to be late to my next class. I could feel my stomach grumbling in protest, hating the bitter taste of the healthy foods. I had to stop starving myself; yesterday had not been fun and I am surprised I had survived solely on Snickers bars.

"I umm have met your brother," I muttered lamely, looking up gingerly to see her face freeze into a stony one, her features unable to betray any emotion. I wanted to apologize for having brought it up; I didn't want her upset but that would give away the fact that Marvel had spoken to me about their personal life. I didn't want to make their relationship worst; I wanted to somehow mend it.

"I bet you have. Marvel is all over the place. Am I to assume that is the reason behind Cato's mood swings?" she deduced, raising her thin, blonde eyebrows when I practically choked on the water I was sipping. I hated the incredible speed at which they made these connections. I felt like they all knew everything. They told each other every detail and then they came to me pretending that they were unaware. That had to be it; I couldn't believe Clove had told Cato. I wondered if Marvel knew and if he could be mad at the petite girl. I bet she put on her cute eyes and pouty lips when he got aggressive. I bet she could play him like a fucking violin.

"Sort. Of. Cato gets…_protective_ over Marvel," I gritted out through my teeth, having given up on my food, my fingers playing around with the disappointing phone. I had not replied to his texts, hoping I would get the chance to talk to him in the cafeteria since he said he was eating. He was nowhere to be found though and I wondered if he had lied to me.

She snorted, rolling her eyes and looking over at the blonde who had started to lean back on his chair dangerously, hinging back and forth, listening to the conversation; Sonny never stopped talking. It was a skill. The other guy who I hadn't recognized had now moved by the blonde's side, leaning heavily on the table and though they had no food in front of them, they refused to budge and make room.

There were people squeezing on top of each other in the other tables because they were too scared to take the empty spaces after the gang of around eight boys, all teasing everyone who used the side exit to leave the buildings. Most people rolled their eyes at their whistles and calls, some blushed, quickening their steps, some gave me the finger or some other inappropriate reaction. I knew I would not be taking that escape route anytime soon.

"That's a mild way to put it. It's more like Cato would kill to have anybody that looks at Marvel blinded," she muttered, causing me to laugh out loud unexpectedly. She smiled at my reaction, continuing her salad. She didn't say much but she was easy to be around. I couldn't understand why she was sitting alone. Did she not like company? I was certain she could make her way to the sacred table and order somebody to give her a seat.

She had a powerful persona but she chose not to use it. Marvel and her were so very different in personalities. While she was reserved, blurting a few words, he was hyperactive and outgoing, able to talk to anybody. I wondered if growing up had made them that way. If it had taught her to be quiet because she did not matter; if it had shown him to take control, be demanding.

In a way I knew his father had told him as a boy that he could have everything he wanted if he just went there and took it. It was his right. I bet they didn't even teach him the concept of sharing and now nobody could have his orientation shirt because they didn't deserve it.

"Especially Finnick Odair," I heard myself whisper and she caught it, straightening up and questioning me with her fierce eyes. She was not going to let this go and I shrugged, responding to her signals,

"Katniss told me they are not on good terms though I have yet to know why," I explained myself and she seemed torn between her loyalty to her pack and my pleading, sad eyes. She looked at Cato again as he hit on a girl who flushed, looking away and she seemed to make a decision. His attitude was putting her off as much as it was making me cringe. He was a different person at school.

"That is true. Cato doesn't like the fact that Finnick has more power over Marvel. I wouldn't mention anything to him—he gets very testy. He gets violent," she advised in a hushed tone and I thanked her, nodding. I wasn't crazy. I wouldn't be throwing out that weapon anytime soon. How could somebody that graduated close to four years ago still have so much power over the dynamic of this group? What exactly was his role in this whole game and would I ever get the chance to meet him?

I heard the table go loud in an uproar and Glimmer muttered 'Marvel's here' under her breath without having to look up, submitting quickly. The hope of seeing him caused me to look up in excitement, my eyes scanning through the crowd rapidly, my pupils dilating. He was here and I was sitting with his sister. How could I fix this situation; I needed to talk to him. I looked over at the boys straining their necks when I couldn't find him on my own and my eyes made contact with Cato's playful, determined ones. His lips moved and I hurried to read them, going rigid at the meaning. He was challenging me; he was saying:

"Come and get him."

My fingernails were digging into the thin skin of my palm and I only broke eye contact with his stupid, teasing eyes when Marvel appeared, just sporting a tight shirt and a pair of acid washed jeans that had been cut by an amateur below the knees, a few threads remaining here and there. His usual high-tops were on and I was surprised to note he switched around to some many different colors that he must have had thousands of pairs. He liked them though and he disliked tying them.

His green eyes scrolled across the table, a lazy grin on his face as some of the boys stood up to hug him, enveloping his frame in their sturdy bodies, ruffling his hair. Some kissed him on the cheek and I blistered though I knew it was a tradition in most European countries to greet by kissing both cheeks. It seemed harmless so I bit my tongue—no jealousy. I assumed it was the first time they had seen him this year and that was the only reason he had yet to acknowledge me or his sister. I wouldn't give Cato the satisfaction of seeing me squirm so I stayed put, feigning disinterest.

After being attacked by the entire crew, he eventually found enough space to move towards the blonde who was grinning at me like a Cheshire cat. As he reached Cato's side, the one sitting down dragged him by the shirt, pulling him down, and the raven obliged leaning with a faint smile as Cato placed a kiss on his cheek. He held on for a little longer than necessary and had the time to find my eyes when he was touching Marvel's soft skin. I glared back in hatred.

When the curly-haired boy straightened again, he immediately went for the hat, looking at it excitedly and transferring it to his own head sideways and keeping up his conversation with Sonny who had not been fazed by their interaction enough to stop his rambling. The green eyes had yet to turn my way and instead were looking for an empty spot, a task made useless when Cato wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him on his lap. I growled; Glimmer looked at me in surprise and Cato gave me a wink. I fucking hated him. He was doing this on purpose.

What did he want to show? He failed! He had nothing to be proud of.

I thought Marvel would do something to stop the madness running through my veins; I thought this was crossing a line. I could feel the same feelings envelop me again though I tried to convince myself this wasn't a Gale situation. I had a chance here! Did exclusivity not include cuddling and openly flirting?

Nobody apparently thought so because the other boys were gathered around the newcomer, talking at the same time and motioning wildly, while he sat comfortably on the blonde's lap, the other's arms still holding him put and flush against his chest.

He didn't seem like he had even noticed where he was dropping his tight ass, screaming back and forth with Sonny over what I could only assume was hockey teams. The others were amusedly laughing at how riled up Sonny was getting, propping himself on the table, scoffing and pointing his tongue out.

"It's not worth losing sleep over. Marvel doesn't think stuff like that is a big deal," Glimmer murmured at me sadly, her delicate hand settling on the one clutching on the table. I startled, looking at her and I hadn't noticed my eyes were starting to go glassy until she was trying to get me to smile. I wasn't hurt; I wasn't. Didn't I at least deserve some form of acknowledgement?

"I don't care," I muttered, lying to myself and feeling my heart reject the statement. I looked down because her eyes looked sympathetic but she had nothing more to say. I hadn't even told her my name and she was here, touching me in comfort and helping me not break into pieces in front of the entire cafeteria.

I heard Marvel squeal surrounded by the sound of breaking plates and I turned around to see the other boys wipe the table clean and Cato raise Marvel off the floor grabbing the panicked boy from his stomach and placing him on his back on the empty table. He was smirking and laughing while Sonny was repeating for Marvel to stop being so 'wiggly' so they could 'get this done'.

I looked at Glimmer in panic but she seemed slightly curious, nowhere near horrified. I looked at the other faces and they were smiling and giggling, pointing towards it. I was the only one feeling lost again.

The curly haired boy was squirming around now as they were trying to pin him down, Cato working to raise his shirt and reveal his flat, tanned abdomen. I flinched with every inch of skin that the other's eyes were readily digesting. His pants had dropped halfway down his ass, being held uselessly by a weaved belt and his black boxers had made an appearance to cover the piece of skin that everybody seemed to care about. I could see Marvel blush, pouting, but he wasn't thrashing as violently as I would be had they decided to rape me on the dinner table.

"Stop you fuckers. Cato, I'm gonna elbow you in the face I swear," Marvel was threatening between giggles, his arms fighting to be released from where the other boys were holding him down. Sonny worked to place a series of marshmallows on his stomach, trying hard to balance them on the flexing abs. He was begging for Marvel to 'make this easy', which caused the other boy to give up fighting and lay down completely still, raising his head to look up amused. His eyes were joyful and I knew he regretted nothing.

When all the food was settled, perched innocently and deliciously over his contrasting skin, all the boys pushed each other to settle on either side of Marvel who had placed his arms behind his head, further causing his shirt to ride up and show his perked up nipples. Did this excite him I wondered? The little attention-whore!

Once they had settled with Cato taking the middle, they proceeded to eat the soft sweets of his stomach. I was certain I was frowning in disgust and even Glimmer trying to steal my attention from the repulsive scene could not get me to look away. Marvel snorted and laughed as they devoured his stomach.

Sonny was the first one done and he exclaimed, bouncing up and down as if he had won the world cup. All the other boys groaned, still mouths full in chewing while Marvel sat up, crossing his legs, making no move to step-down from his pedestal on the table. He seemed pleased with himself and I was sneering at him, hoping he would catch my disappointed gaze.

Cato was the one who actually looked back and I expected him to be mean about this whole thing, to smirk but he just gave me a knowing look. I stood up, moving for the exit, vowing to never enter the cafeteria again and I knew he followed because Marvel whined his name and he murmured that he would be back.

I wanted to avoid him but at the same time I wanted a confrontation. I wanted somebody to vent to. I wanted to scream my frustration and tell him he was a prick for making me feel bad again. He was the vacuum cleaner of my joy and I had trusted him just like I had trusted Marvel.

I was leaning on the wall of the hallway when he approached me and I scowled, looking down until I could see his snickers come into my view. When I stared at him again, he was looking at me in pity, shrugging once before opening his mouth, the one that he had used to tickle Marvel's stomach.

"I just wanted to make a point. You can't stand it. He needs someone who does not blink an eye at that display. You're not that person. You're practically tearing up because he sat on my lap. Come on, blondie. He sleeps with me in one bed," he rambled on and I was shaking my head to keep my eyes from doing what he mentioned. He was making me feel bad and I was pushing back as he reached forward. People kept moving out of the hallway, staring at us. I started glaring at the opposite wall, trying to urge my eyes to calm down.

The blonde moved to hug me and it was the first time he had touched me, pulled me next to his beating heart and his sturdy chest. He smelled the same strong essence and I was having trouble breathing because I didn't know how to respond.

"I don't want him hurt. I've seen what this does to him. I know you're a stubborn little brat but I'm not backing down on this. As much as you think I specialize in causing you pain, I don't mean to make you suffer," he whispered to me, caressing my hair and I was trying hard to remain strong. I didn't want to be convinced though everything he said made sense. I wanted to fight; I didn't want to give up.

He moved away from me, his arms still holding my shoulders and I shrugged, letting him know I wasn't convinced and I wasn't about to tell him I would move away. He sighed heavily. His blue eyes were exasperated and mine stared back in defiance.

"I want him very badly," I admitted, letting him know that it wasn't that simple. I was pleasantly surprised to note that I had become more confident with my sexuality. My voice didn't shake and I didn't blush in humiliation. I had started to accept it. I had started to feel comfortable because the air they had towards homosexuality was so accepting that it drew you in. They were the opposite of my narrow-minded old school.

"You can learn to live with that," he whispered under his breath and his eyes had glazed out again making me think he was not aware he had blurted it. He was doing that thing again: living in his past. He was speaking for himself and I blanched at the lost look in his eyes. Shit, I didn't want to end up like this. I had to escape.

"Is it hard?" I asked and he nodded, looking back in worry once before entrusting me with the information. He didn't want anybody to overhear and I assumed the first person on that list was Marvel. He wanted me to pull out of the affair desperately enough to reveal his secrets. He was serious and I had to give him some credit because he knew Marvel better than anybody else.

"Extremely at times. I have to…fuck—I have to sleep next to him, hold him against my chest when he needs it, knowing that I can't do it everyday, knowing that he will run up to Clove's room the next chance he gets," he murmured with difficulty and my breath hitched at him having admitted it so clearly. He was pained.

"Then why not let go?" I asked, furious at myself and him for being Marvel's toys, for being so weak and used. I couldn't stand it. It made me want to hurt the curly-haired boy.

"Because he doesn't mean to torture me. Because not being by his side only ends up hurting both of us more. He needs me; he's always needed me ever since he could speak. Because no matter how many times he gets lost, he finds his way back to me," he explained and my eyes filled with tears because his speech was so poignantly beautiful and I wanted to hug him so badly. I wanted to make it better.

_What surprised me the most though was the fact that I wanted to mend their relationship. I didn't want to tear them apart; I didn't want them individually. I wanted to be there, smoothing their interactions, fixing both of them simultaneously. I wanted to fix something that had been broken beyond belief. I wanted to be the artist that recreated their intricate relationship. I wanted to be present and I wanted to be part. It was terrorizing and exhilarating beyond belief. It was special and it was only mine. _

"Why is Marvel like this?" I asked, almost groaning in frustration, and he sighed again, giving me all the answers because now he had realized that I wasn't like the rest of them. I wasn't going to give up; I wanted to know. I didn't mean any harm to the younger one; I couldn't. He was too special to me.

"He grew up being told to be like Finnick fucking Odair. His parents enforce their paranoia and ideals on him. His sister is not there to support him, tell him the truth, teach him how it's really supposed to be," Cato mumbled aggressively, his eyes turning dangerous and I stepped back though I knew this violence wasn't directed towards me. When he spoke of Marvel's family, his voice leaked venom and his entire body shook in fury. I couldn't begin to imagine why.

"What did Finnick tell him—?" I started asking only to be interrupted by Marvel who strolled towards us, looking embarrassed and defeated. I immediately fixed my face into a smile because I couldn't stand to see him like that and Cato looked behind him, extending his arm and cuddling Marvel to his side. The raven was looking at me, pouting and I had to say hi because he seemed lost.

"Did I do something wrong again?" he mumbled, looking at me and then looking at Cato as we both made eye contact, signing the pact that we would work together to protect him and scrambling to reassure him simultaneously, smiling and cheerful.

"No! No, little one," Cato murmured, chuckling and ruffling his hair but his green eyes looked unconvinced turning towards me and I stepped forward, kissing him lightly on the cheek and whispering,

"Of course not."

He grinned then and when I looked up to Cato I didn't see him glare at me so I felt accomplished. I didn't move back as far away, remaining in reach while the blonde nudged the younger asking him a question I hadn't expected. I didn't want him to know we were talking about him behind his back. I bit my lip in expectation.

"What does Finnick tell you, Marvie?" Cato murmured against his hair, kissing his temple apparently having predicted the violent whiplash. The black-haired boy flinched, pulling away viciously and staring at the two of us in confusion. I wanted to ease his fears. What was Cato doing? Couldn't he tell how scared the other was?

"I don't want to talk about his," he mumbled, about to return before I grabbed his hand dragging him back to us reluctantly and he stared at Cato who gave him a nod, allowing him the chance to be exposed, telling him that he was there and he would protect him from anything.

"Cato," he whined once and my grip twitched because I didn't want to feel like I was hurting him but Cato only reached to move the bangs of his face, looking at him expectantly.

"What does Finnick repeat to you, Marv?" he asked again, lightly caressing his hair and I could see Marvel's defense waver a little at the display. He looked at me and I smiled encouragingly at him, holding my grasp and reminding him of our previous discussion. I had managed to get him to release that pent up frustration. I could do this. I could be his shield. Maybe I was lying to myself when I thought I could help him on my own but Cato was there now, aiding him along, allowing me to make a difference with him.

"He says I should never get attached. I shouldn't let people hold me down. He says to never give anything without getting something back in return," Marvel whispered, lowering his eyes and submitting while Cato pulled him to his chest, hiding his face so I could only see the beginning of his scrunched up pain. I looked at the blonde and he nodded at me to confirm that what Marvel was saying was indeed truth. That was how he was advised. My hand reached to touch his back and I traced the contours of his muscles soothingly.

"What are you supposed to get in return, Sashi?" Cato murmured wetly, pulling me close enough to hear the mumbles against his shirt. Marvel had his eyes closed and I had to remind myself once again that he never cried otherwise I would have been suspicious.

He had used his real name in front of me and though I was sure he had assumed I had figured it out when I had read the text messaging, the whole act held significance. I felt like they trusted me; they were allowing me to get close to their walls. They were watching me climb them without throwing rocks at me in panic.

"Secrets."


	10. Method to my Madness

**Chapter 9: Method to my Madness**

_Peeta's POV (Wednesday)_

My blue eyes opened the next day before the alarm went off. I didn't momentarily startle when I saw the strange surroundings like I had been conditioned to. I just looked at the ceiling, sighing. I didn't feel defeated anymore. It was different, yes, but not necessarily the worst thing that could have happened to me. Somehow, thinking about what I should expect today only made my stomach flip anxiously; it no longer caused me that blinding fear that paralyzed my body and mind.

My body seemed to have adapted itself easily to the early awakenings. I slept better too when I felt exhausted. I didn't mind having Thresh come in and out in the middle of the night. I had grown to somewhat trust him not to kill me. I looked over at his massive form snoring across the room. He had been missing all day yesterday and I didn't get the chance to fix things. I shied away from mentioning the topic out of fear that he would explode at me like he had at Cato and Marvel. I knew I wasn't as indifferent as them. I wasn't ready to handle the brutally honest truth.

I knew I had to talk to him at some point though. The silence was only saddening me. I was getting lonely, sitting in my room without having anybody to exchange any words with. I wasn't looking for us to be besties and share everything from our pasts to our futures. I just wanted to look up and comment, knowing that I would get an opinion back in return. Being in my own mind for so long didn't help me, seeing as it only served to tire my brain with useless thoughts. It was sort of like jail, where sitting on one's own, bouncing ideas of the murky walls is the only thing one can do.

His disappearances had increased and I only accounted that due to the fact that he needed to be under the influence more often. I didn't want it to be true but I knew my assumptions were right. I itched to bring this topic up but that was the worst way to approach the delicate situation when it came to addicts. I didn't want him to feel cornered. I just wanted to help in any way possible; I just wanted to ask him if he needed anything. He would then reject my help, put me back to my place and my conscience would be tamed from its raging form.

I didn't want this change to be because of the stress I seemed to cause in their gang dynamics. No matter how hard I tried to overlook it, it was clear that the aura had altered when I had walked in. they weren't the same because now there was a new toy and even a slight interest in it would permanently destroy that usual flow of attention that they had comfortably settled in. The minute Marvel as much as glanced at me in interest, their entire group collapsed, trying to get him to detach because I didn't deserve it. They had fought hard to keep him to themselves and I found it ridiculous because he was much happier spreading out his addicting exhilaration.

When I got back today, I would wait for Thresh so we would finally have that talk. I would refuse to go to sleep before he came in the room even if that meant lying awake in bed, thinking about how much my life had changed in less than a week. It was weird to note how fast events happened at E.L. and how many of them at any point and time. It was a thrilling ride to be in and it was even more refreshing to know that I caused them, that I mattered.

I looked at the phone—no new texts or calls. I had yet to reach reconciliation with Gale and that fact made my eyes burn at night when I wasn't safely wrapped in the veil of attention that the gorgeous Russians bestowed on me. He was my best friend and I was being a dick because somehow I felt that he had not encouraged me enough. He had not believed in me. He had let me stay invisible, hide, when I could be like this! It wasn't his fault though and I was punishing him for being kind enough to shield me. I had to fix that up too. I had to fix a lot of things I had managed to break the last few days.

I had yet to speak to my parents. They didn't even care to know how I was faring. I bet they had more important stuff to worry about. I wondered if they felt as if the family had gone back to normal, to how they had been before they inherited me as a burden. Back in the day when my father had forgotten he had another son, trapped in a house with his crazy ex-wife. Back in the day that I hadn't known what happiness really was. Did I know now though?

That was probably the main reason they had send me to boarding school and I found that though I had come here enveloped in hatred, now I didn't mind the change in living conditions much. Sure the showers sucked but at least I got to see Marvel and sure the walls were paper thin but at least I could move two steps to find the support I needed when I was shattering. It forced me out of my comfort zone but it was safe in a way that I would have never defined that word.

At least here people seemed like they noticed me and up until now I hadn't known how much I needed that. I had thought about hiding all these years when all I wanted was to shine, to be in the spotlight. I wanted what I had never had; I wanted to feel important. I wanted to feel like I wasn't the mistake, the baby that was meant to save their marriage but never did. I wanted to feel significant in somebody else's life. I had tried to save my mom and that hadn't worked so I had given up on that dream. However arriving here was like reaching a haven for troubled souls where everywhere I glanced I saw somebody that needed to be saved. I could help. I could be there for someone; I could erase my guilt, cover it with another emotion that I had yet to feel; therefore, yet to identify.

It would be five am in less than ten minutes and I remembered why I had decided to put myself through this torture again. Somehow I had been taught the past few times I had done this that it was always worth the fatigue. Today wouldn't disappoint.

I stumbled out of bed, yawning and rubbing my eyes. I shut the alarm before it went off; I didn't want to disturb the little sleep that Thresh got. His room became more crowded with objects and clothes with every passing day. He had fallen asleep with his laptop by his side yesterday. I shook my head, grabbing it and placing it gently on his desk. He stirred but didn't wake.

Without changing from my t-shirt and sweats outfit I went out in the hallway. As much as I refused to admit it, I had missed the comfort of the cotton material. It wasn't restricting like jeans. No wonder Cato loved his sweats; he looked good in them. There was something cool about guys who didn't try to dress up. They exuded an air of confidence. I wasn't sure I could pull them off as well as he could, with his sexy body and his handsome face, but at this point I didn't care. I was comfortable and that made me feel good all by itself. I was happy to have dropped my previous complexes. I felt content finally, though I still saw how dysfunctional all of them were.

Ambling slowly through the hallway, I heard the annoying and repetitive sound of an alarm coming from Cato's room. I should have guessed he would have tried to wake up too. He was a sweetheart when it came to Marvel after all and no matter how many texting threads he had, he never forgot to take care of his 'best friend'. It would have driven me crazy to be responsible for that many people but he seemed to enjoy it. I felt bad for him having to lose sleep two days in the row.

I approached his room, knocking gently twice and opening the door when I heard nothing on the inside. The alarm was still going and I rolled my eyes at myself, knowing he was probably moaning about somebody else to shut it up.

The room was dark, very little sunlight escaping the blinds to enlighten the floor and make it visible enough for me to move forward. Edan was in his bed, head under the pillow, probably in an attempt to ignore the disturbance. I was surprised he was not awake yet. He must have been used to hearing the alarm go off early in the morning because of Cato's Tennis practice. Hesitantly stepping on the carpeted floor, I made my way to the blaring clock on top of his desk, slapping it lightly on top to make the sound stop. The room fell into silence and I had to hold my breath to make sure I didn't startle them both.

"Bless the lord," I heard Cato moan in relief and I looked around to see him sprawled on the bed, having burrowed his face in his pillow. Upon the removal of the unpleasant sound, his body went lax and he cuddled further into his bed, not caring about how the noise had mysteriously disappeared. He must have been exhausted and I didn't blame him. I wondered when he had finally fallen asleep yesterday. I could hear people knocking on his door throughout the entire evening. Haymitch had been there too, speaking in hushed whispers that I could only assume meant there was some sort of trouble back home. Haymitch seemed to be close to all of them and by the way he addressed them, I knew he met them more than four years ago.

Looking at his breathing form, I smiled gently, allowing myself a few seconds to stare. The sheets were completely on the floor and he was just sleeping in his boxers. I gawked, my eyes rolling down his broad shoulders to his slim waist and up his round ass. His muscles were flexing lightly with the fatigue of the morning and his hair was ruffled adorably. I rapidly imagined what it would be like to wake in the same bed as that before I noticed how creepy I looked, standing in somebody else's room and staring at them in the dark. In my defense I had good intentions.

His beautiful eyes fluttered open around the same time that I made the decision to leave and he looked at me sleepily for a few seconds, trying to make sense of the blurry figure in front of him, before flinching and jumping up in bed so fast, I heard his neck crack. He flailed around adorably before his back hit the opposite wall and he flinched awake at the cold surface.

"Jesus fuck! What the hel—what are you _doing_? How? What is happening?" He panicked, yelling and looking at me in confusion. His eyes had widened and he had inched himself away from the wall, his arms struggling to cover his body with the remaining sheets. Through the fear of being caught and the humiliation of the situation, I laughed hysterically, blushing heavily, because he seemed so vulnerable and that placed me in some twisted position of power.

"Sorry. I figured since Sonny was missing, Marvel would need help waking up. I'll take care of it. Go back to sleep; you need it," I mumbled, shrugging and approaching his bed, leaning on it slightly. They had a habit of propping their beds higher than normal so others felt uncomfortable sitting on them. It was impossible to actually sit on it without jumping up and then clawing your body through the mess of sheets.

His brain finally decoded the information given and he looked at the wall, in the general direction of Marvel's room before looking back at my sheepish smile. He was still frazzled by my sudden appearance but the sleep was fogging his doubt, making him slow. I would bet his mind was running in circles blurting out random words that had absolutely no connection to each other. I knew my mind did that when I just regained consciousness.

"How? Never mind. Are you sure?" he asked, cocking his head sideways before laying back on the bed with a sigh, staring at me from his place on the fluffy pillow. I was surprised to see he had given up this quickly but his reluctance to argue pleased me. He didn't feel the need to get defensive and that was always a step forward. I nodded, reaching to lightly touch his hair because I couldn't resist. It was soft and silky, sliding through my fingers. It glowed gold with the few rays of sunlight. His eyes fluttered shut at the attention and I took that as a sign of acceptance so I didn't pull away.

"I got it. Trust me a little. Besides, I'm up around this time usually," I murmured, assuring him and I could see he was wavering between the blissful pleasure of sleep and his concern about Marvel around me in the nakedness of the communal shower. He was battling but I assumed my light caresses and the soft, inviting bed won over because he nodded towards me, slowly opening his eyes once to stare at my smile before nuzzling the bed with a relieved sigh.

"I'll be up in around one hour anyway. Don't screw up, blondie. And stop watching me sleep. I don't get wet for that Edward Cullen shit," he muttered with a slight grin and I barked in laughter because I couldn't in a million years picture him watching those movies. The books were a completely ridiculous idea. I would definitely bring this up later though when he forgot he had provided me with this ammo.

"I didn't think you the Twilight type," I chuckled lightly, moving reluctantly away from the bed and towards the door because I could hear Marvel's alarm going off, breaking our little moment. It was time to part with him as much as I loved looking at his blue eyes stealing glances from their half-lidded position. He thought he was being sneaky but I could tell when he was actually blind and when he pretended to be so he could analyze the situation without my knowing.

"Clove made me," he grunted, giving me one more smirk before turning around to face the wall and I quickly scanned his powerful back again, tracing his tattoo, before lightly closing the door behind me murmuring to myself,

"I didn't think her the Twilight type either."

I walked down the hallway to the other room where the noise covered every sign of life. They both had peculiar choices at alarm clocks. While Cato's was a song that started off smooth and ended up nothing more than a loud, buzzing sound, Marvel's alternated between random noises. Yesterday it had been farm animal sounds; today it was the "chu-chu" of a train. I wondered if this made him giggle. Did that make it easier for him to leave his bed? I couldn't really tell; I had enjoyed the farm animals. It had felt peaceful, like waking up in a suburban place where the air wasn't polluted and the neighbors weren't mowing their lawns at six am in the morning.

I felt weird, stumbling in every room for the sake of turning off the alarms. It felt like a force. On the other hand, I felt powerful because I had been the one who was taking care of both of them. I felt like they had developed some sort of trust in me and though it was early, it made me smile to know I was getting used to the routines of the dorm. It made me feel as if I had adapted, as if I had been here for a long time. That made me giddy. It was a good morning.

I opened the door without even knocking this time, knowing that he wouldn't be able to answer it anyway. As the room came into view, I gave myself the liberty of checking out the surroundings, leaning in the doorway to smile at Marvel's form stirring on top of his bed, completely under his covers, his hair the only thing making an appearance. He was smaller than Cato but not less fit.

His room was around the same size as mine and as I had assumed, his bed was on the corner closest to the bathroom. It was fairly high up though they weren't bunking their beds. He liked to shove things under it because he had clothes, his hockey equipment, drawers, boxes and suitcases all littering the cubic area under his mattress. The rest of the floor was clean and that gave me some hope. There were some posters on the wall from random areas of entertainment that I didn't have time to analyze in detail with the brain-destroying melody in the background. The train was getting closer and I wondered if there was a finale to this sound like a loud crash accompanied by maniacal high-pitched screams; 'my baby! It took my baby!' I was a monster.

It was safe to say he watched a lot of TV because he had an entire bookcase filled with those season packets from different shows. I noticed he had the entire collection of Lost and I wondered how he had made it through season 7; the plot had spiraled out of control. I quickly scanned the room to see the alarm clock on the floor, complaining sideways. I assumed he had kicked it off the desk. I chuckled, walking towards it to shut it up before nearing Marvel's bed, stepping over some discarded clothing that I recognized from the day before.

On one side of his bed, he had a poster of Stewie Griffin from Family Guy. I rolled my eyes at the quote because it said, "I would love to stay and chat but you're a total bitch." He seemed like the kind of guy who enjoyed that vulgar show and in some quick, idiotic fantasy that I had in that moment, staring at the football shape head of that little pest, I imagined he sort of related to the evil, maniacal baby. Maybe I would watch some with him because I knew that even if I didn't find it funny myself, I found his laugh hilarious and utterly contagious.

On the other side of his bed, he had a poster of Eminem back in the day when he rapped about 'being the real Slim Shady'. His hair was still that light color and unlike the appearances he made these days, he looked young and energetic. Sure, I had listened to his music; what middle-school boy hadn't? It was the cool thing to do back in the day where having a gun seemed _awesome_. I had changed my mind now; he seemed to still be infatuated with the white rapper.

I moved to touch him lightly on the head, wanting to go for a slightly different technique than the one that gave Cato a heart attack. My fingers threaded through his curls and he stirred, making some sort of noise that signified appreciation, not inching to stop me or wake. I smiled down at him.

"Marvel, wake up, pretty boy. It's hockey time," I murmured gently, copying Sonny's terms that first day I had heard him throw a tantrum about awakening. He moaned slightly but that was the only signal that told me he had heard. He was making absolutely no move to leave his bed, his hands clutching the blankets. I sighed, pulling his blanket away from him so his face wasn't burrowed in it. He fought lightly to keep it before pouting annoyed. He scrunched his eyes, hiding them in his pillow and I had to chuckle. He was like a child in some many different ways. He had never grown up; he had never been allowed to face the real world on his own.

"Come on now. You don't play fair," I muttered, shaking him slightly with no results. I thought this would be harder than I first predicted. He liked to play games and he liked to be sneaky. I sat myself at the edge of his bed with some effort after having to jump and he shifted to make room, still pretending to be unaware of my presence. Subtle. I touched his thigh, trying to shake him awake again but all he kept doing was moaning and faking sleep. I could see the smile appearing on his face though and it sacred me a little. He could be the devil if he wanted to.

"You'll have to move me," he giggled, his voice muffled by the pillow and I pursed my lips in thinking. I was fairly certain he knew it was I but then again he could be talking in his hazy, half-asleep mode. He could think this was Cato or worse Clove. I guess we would just have to find out. He was much calmer in his reaction though, which made me think he was used to being in bed with other people. He didn't mind the contact. It was like Glimmer had said: he didn't think it was a big deal.

I climbed half on top of him to get a better angle at pulling him awake and he noticed my actions, turning around so his back was touching the mattress and his naked chest was facing me. I blushed, eyeing the tattoo from the closer angle and admiring the detail. I wondered if it had hurt; I wondered if they had done it illegally. Even unconscious he held all the power in our interactions. He could manipulate me to be exactly where he wanted me.

I knew the best option would be to step down from his territory of choice and use other methods, scream or pull his covers off. But my pride had been touched and somehow, I like that aspect of a power struggle that he offered. I liked that side of being able to dominate him even if it was short-lived. It was that fire that fueled my false courage. With him everything was new and therefore exciting to try. I didn't know the consequences yet so I didn't have anything to fear.

I moved further on him so I was straddling him without thinking much and only once I had sat down on the very obvious bulge tenting his boxers did I realize my mistake. He moaned wantonly at the contact, smirking and his hands found their way on my thighs though he had yet to open his eyes.

I could practically feel his teasing stare without even seeing the green shining in amusement. I flushed embarrassed, noticing against my better judgment, that the more I felt him twitch beneath me, the more I wanted to join him in that state. I could feel the pool of warmth at the bottom of my stomach. My erection had a mind of its own.

His palms found their way to the front of my sweatpants and I let out a breathy gasp, when his fingers cupped my half-hard member. If there was any hope to stop that process, it was gone now because his touch sent sparks of pleasure down my spine and I had never seen my body react that fast to any sort of visual stimulation. In less than ten seconds, without having to make perverse gestures and inappropriate poses, he had me rock-hard and panting, my hands grasping the cotton blanket on either side of his head in a deathly grip as he grinned further, sliding his hands away teasingly and pushing me against him. I could have stopped. I had the choice but I was still caught off guard so I let myself slide against him, possibly moving on my own to encourage it.

The friction made me want to close my eyes as well while he mewled in pleasure, bucking against me. He had no limitation with how much sound he could produce; he was far too laid-back to care. He expressed audibly every feeling that went through his nerves. I had to bite my lip because I had taught myself to stay silent. I had taught myself that this was forbidden, wrong.

It scared me to see how willing I was to tremble under his palms as they slid up my shirt. My own hands were itching to explore his skin and I noticed that biting my lip against my fear was all the strength I needed to support myself by touching his chest as opposed to the bed. I was trusting him way to easily. One of my palms moved to rest on top of his tattoo and for a second, I forgot who he was and how we even got here. For a second, I didn't remember that he was the Black Widow I had seen dye his hair that first day.

I noticed something strange then; a finding that though I had no experience to back up, I was certain was true. The way his body reacted to pleasure wasn't entirely normal. He got all the right symptoms; after all we had gone through them with detail during Sex Ed where I was the only one not giggling. I was the only one who actually needed the information because the rest of my friends had direct experience.

He wasn't displaying worrisome reactions; on the contrary they only served to excite me more. But it was as if every one of those body alterations was accentuated, emphasized and perfected from a simple reflex into an action with a purpose. His lips became ruby red with the blood pumping through them, his eyelids dropped into that state before orgasm and his entire flawless skin was dusted with a flush, his nipples darkening and perking. He tensed, his muscles revealing themselves under the tight skin and his body temperature peaked.

I didn't even want to see his eyes because I didn't think I could handle it. He looked so sexually mouth-watering that I knew this had to be generated on purpose. They had found out how nature made sure everybody mated and recreated that process so that this human being could be that colorful bird that attracted all the attention. I couldn't believe that they had gone this far. What had they thought he would be? What had been the use of this advantage? It was almost as if they encouraged him to use sex to get things—they wanted him to be some perverse form of prostitute. It was demented and it was turning me off mentally, making me want to pull back and apologize for his past.

I wanted to move away, reject his advances, because I felt like the rest of them. I felt like I was using him but my body was rebuffing any of my orders and the more I begged for it to stop, the more it kept moving against him, kissing him back now that he had pulled himself up in a sitting position and was invading my mouth with his warm tongue.

I hadn't even noticed the change until I could feel his hands sliding down my back, making me shiver in anticipation. I snapped my blue eyes open to observe in pure shock how firmly my arms had wrapped around his neck, my fingers in his hair, and how hard I was against his lap, pulsing in need. What the actual fuck was going on with me? I was losing all control.

It felt good. It felt amazing to be touched, to be kissed, to be wanted. I guessed that had been the reason why my body had chased after it. It was sick of suffering because of my indecisive mind. It needed this release and it was not going to let anything come in its way. I had abstained for too long and I couldn't handle that pain any longer. He was all I needed and I wanted him more than I despised myself for my weakness.

He pulled back gently, opening his eyes for the first time and I got lost in the darkness of his dilated pupils and his thick eyelashes. He looked sexy, not beautiful, just smoking hot and very fuckable.

I gasped against his plump lips and he smiled slyly, his eyes turning joyful. He liked what I had to offer. He was having fun and it was hard to convince myself that I was hurting him when I could see how anxious he was to get his hands under the hem of my sweats. I briefly wondered if sex felt different for him, if he was overly sensitive to every touch. I wanted to test my theory.

"This isn't how I predicted this was gonna go down," I sighed shakily and he chuckled, not stopping his fingers from trailing teasingly down my chest. His other hand remained on my side and I had to use mine to push away from him slightly. I was having difficulty keeping my eyes in one place because now that he had moved the covers aside, I could see his body and I could stalk the few droplets of sweat maneuvering through the strong lines of his abs and guiding me towards the light happy trail. Unlike yesterday, he was interested now. He wasn't holding back. He was big and he was ready. He was mine. I wanted him to always be mine.

I was so fucked.

_**(The following part has been removed due to its graphic nature and the ban on MA fiction. Use your imaginations or Wattpad the original novel for its full, sexual nature.)**_

I felt him move away from me and I assumed to wipe of his face but I was too exhausted to follow his movements. I cuddled on his blankets, smelling his presence and whispering 'thank you' repeatedly as if he had given me life. I startled when I felt his fingers on my hips and I looked up to see him cleaned up and smiling, I didn't know what to say and I didn't know if he wanted me to apologize for being such a douche. I had let my hormones take over and now that the bliss was rolling off my sweaty back, I felt like a dick. It wasn't fair of me and I had to apologize. I had treated him like one of those whores. It made my heart hurt to see myself fall so low. He wasn't mad either, which made it worse to swallow.

He gently pulled my sweatpants up, placing a chaste kiss on my hipbone before covering me up. He hoisted me fully on the bed, leaning over next to where I was biting my lip in guilt. He was still smiling cheerfully and I whimpered out a 'sorry' before pushing my face on the covers to avoid looking at his expression.

"Don't be, babe. For the record, I think you are sexy as hell when you talk dirty," he muttered, chuckling at my horrified face and ruffling my hair before moving away from the bed to reach for a towel. For a second I forgot why I had come here in the first place but he seemed to be doing fine at taking care of himself. I remembered my conversation with Cato and I blushed, angry at my lack of self-control. What would he say if he knew I tainted his little baby? He would punch me square in the jaw.

I tried to shift myself of the bed but he gently pushed me back, towel around his shoulders. I looked at him in questioning and he leaned to kiss me on the nose.

"Rest. We both know you _do not _need to be up this early," he murmured, winking at the blush that found a permanent home on my face. He was right; I didn't have to be but if I could have a few seconds alone with him, I would always be up.

I nodded at him as he moved away, exiting his room and leaving me cuddled in his bed. I bit my lip and stayed silent though what I really wanted to do was scream at him, ask him so many of the questions that I didn't want to be carrying around any longer.

Why wasn't this a relationship?

Why was he so perfect?

How could I get him to—shit.

I liked him too much for the little time we had spent together. I had never experienced anything like this before. I usually treaded carefully on dangerous terrains but it felt as if I had accidently slipped, lost my footing, and now I was sliding down the steep edge of the mountain with no way of holding on, gripping restlessly at the ground until my fingertips bled to try and stop myself.

I didn't know when my eyes had drifted shut. I had meant to go back to my room but my limbs felt light and my eyes kept disobeying my orders. He had turned off the lights when he had left and now all I could see was the hazy darkness of the room and the slit of light entering form the edge of the blinds.

I needed the sleep and for the first time my mind was sated. I had given it what it wanted and it was still too busy doting over the raven to disrupt my rest.

I pulled myself up but only to move further into his bed and the moment my face hit his pillow, my mind shut off and I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

* * *

"Wake up, blondie! Wow, you are worse than Marv," I heard somebody mutter angrily, shaking me awake and I was about to moan and push him away because this was the best sleep I had had in a long time before I identified the tone as Cato.

I remembered Marvel and our little arrangement. I felt the expensive, silky fabric against my face and I jumped awake, looking around in fear. Cato was indeed standing in front of me, cocking his head sideways, his hair wet and curly, sticking to his frowning forehead. He seemed confused, torn between grinning in vengeance and pouting in betrayal. His toned arms were sitting on the bed and his torso was naked, still dripping water on the carpet. He had just gotten out of the shower, I assumed.

He was now standing there silently questioning me on why I was on his bed, drooling on his sheets and clutching his pillow to my chest. He needed some form of explanation that I was afraid I couldn't give. I whimpered scared.

"Where's Marv?" I squeaked, my voice still groggy, eyes adjusting to the light. I looked around uselessly, spotting the clock that displayed six thirty-three. I couldn't have dozed off for more than one hour and yet it felt as if I couldn't even remember my name with the lethargic feel in my limbs. He was still staring, hands now on his waist and I gulped, stuttering.

"Marv," he emphasized the nickname because it had slipped from my lips, "is at hockey. He came by to tell me to make sure you didn't sleep through first period."

"Oh," I muttered lamely, blushing at his scrutinizing eyes, "Thanks."

I felt it was ironic to see how messed up this whole waking up business had become, complex as a web. I tried to inch myself from the bed, looking at the way he was staring at me weirdly and he didn't stop me, instead backing away to give me some space. Once my feet had touched the floor, I felt a palm on my upper arm and I turned towards him in hesitation, biting the inside of my cheek.

"You slept on his bed?" he asked the obvious question, frowning in confusion and I nodded hastily, looking at him strangely. Of course I did and he let me do it. I didn't just sneak in to change scenery. Why was this a big deal? I had been on top of his bed too.

"Yeah. He told me I could," I answered, shrugging and attempting to casually move away but his hold on my arm tightened and I flinched, stopping in my tracks to look at him once again, a trace of irritation leaking through my eyes. Why must he be such a bitch about things that I had thought we had moved on from? I thought he resigned from taking Marvel away from me. I thought I made it clear I knew I was bound to be hurt but I was masochistic enough to enjoy the ride down to hell.

"He never lets anyone sleep on his bed," he whispered more to himself, finally letting go of me and I gaped now wanting to stop him from moving away. He seemed hurt by the realization and as I saw him lean on the bed again, touching it gently as if it was sacred, I knew I should have lied. He was looking at the wall, lost in thought, gnawing lightly on his bottom lip and I moved by his side, placing a hand on his back.

"He probably has had many people on this bed," I murmured, trying to be comforting and failing as he flinched violently, turning around and staring down at me. I raised my hands in a sign of peace, shrugging my shoulders and rolling my eyes. He probably did, seeing that he loved having sex. I wouldn't take that back because the blonde refused to admit it.

"Watch your mouth when you talk about him in front of me," he warned through gritted teeth and I frowned at him because he thought he was the only one who cared about Marvel's honor. I hadn't meant any damage with my words and he needed to stop pretending he couldn't see my devotion to the other. Because he could see it clear as day in the way I begged for his attention and thrived to be by his side. He just didn't want to admit it because he was scared with every step I would somehow do the impossible and get where he never went.

"He hates having people on his bed. If he needs to sleep with someone he goes to their room. Nobody has been on here, not Sonny, not Clove, not—" he started ranting, pacing around the room and motioning towards the rumpled sheets that I had burrowed my body in just minutes ago. He was getting riled up.

"You? That's why this is important? Jesus, Cato, it's just a bed," I mumbled, rolling my eyes and trying to downplay the importance of the event because I knew he didn't like competition. I knew he would take this the wrong way whether I wanted him to or not.

Deep inside I was beaming at the information, smiling so hard it hurt. He had let me; he had insisted. I was the only one to do something and as long as that related to Marvel, I would be happy about it. I could be his exception.

"He's just playing you," I heard Cato mumble, staring at me defiantly and smirking in that way that told me he thought he was better. I knew there was a trace of insecurity in his reaction though so I chased it, sniffed it out like a dog and sprinted towards it with bare teeth.

"Like he played you," I snapped back, crossing my arms and smiling back at him, raising an eyebrow. He tensed but didn't give me the satisfaction of seeing his squirm, instead approaching me a few steps and already flinging back the next statement.

"I was his boyfriend, his _only_ boyfriend. And he loves me whether your inexperienced ass likes it or not," he growled possessively, smirking at me ferociously and making me lose some ground metaphorically and physically as I rammed on the bed behind me to try and place some space in between us. He surrounded you like a prey and he physically dominated you until you acceded to his point.

"I don't think that is something to be proud of, looking at the situation, fuck-up," I snapped, glaring at him while he bristled at the insult, clenching his jaw tight, his eyes flashing in hurt before he transformed it into anger, sneering at me. I knew I was egging him on. I was slashing at him with every attempt he made to put me down.

"It's still much more than you'll ever be," he mumbled, his arms settling on either side of me and I stayed put, trapped between the bed and his chest. I looked up at him, smiling innocently at the way his blue eyes raged, darkening. He was at the edge of an all-or-nothing moment and I didn't know what I wanted. Did I want it all?

"We'll see about that. I can be his boyfriend," I muttered against my will, knowing that he could see through my fragile front, he could spot the bluff and laugh at it. It was as if I had divulged my dreams and was embarrassed by their impossibility. I looked down.

"You can't because you are like him," he whispered and the tone had lost all its anger. It was drowned in sadness and hopelessness. He was actually hurt and that had been the most difficult thing for him to say ever since I met him. I was suddenly curious. I looked up at him in surprise and he leaned down until our noses were touching. My breath fanned against his lips and my body froze, my eyes searching his frantically.

"How?" I managed to gasp out while his hand raked through my hair and my eyes half-lidded on their own. I gulped as his lips parted, seducing me and inviting me in, and he whispered the secret against my mouth before he forced me to face the fact that maybe he was right. I wasn't right for him.

"You can't help yourself. You're unfaithful," he mewled, crashing his lips into mine and I startled at the contact though I was expecting it. My shoulders rammed against the bed railing and his hands slid up my shirt, causing me to moan in his mouth and give him an opportunity to explore, taste Marvel, his ex-boyfriend and take his essence away with him as he pulled back, looking at me knowingly.

My eyes widened in fear and my stomach dropped but when he leaned in again for a second round, I worked with him to get our bodies closer, my hands sliding up his strong back and wrapping around his waist, keeping him to myself though I knew he was violating everything I ever gained today. He was rougher, harsh and merciless, in his biting and compared to Marvel's fluttery kisses, this was filled with ruthless feelings such as vengeance and victory.

When he pulled away to stare at me, I felt my heart twist at the sight of his wet, bruised lips. I had fucked up and now I had to hide it somehow otherwise I would lose him. I would never be on his bed again. His eyes had hardened and it was worse to note that he had not enjoyed the kiss as much as I had. He had done it to prove a point. He always hurt me to prove his fucking points. He had done it to break me and he was cruel.

"So much for exclusivity, eh?" he blurted out dryly, smiling slyly and I slapped him because I felt weak and I had to protect myself the only way my trapped form could think of. He looked surprised, lightly touching his cheek but his guard did not stay down for long. My bottom lip quivered in anger, my arms shaking, ready for another round. I wanted to push him away, hurt him.

"You're a jackass. He hates you, you know! I hate you!" I mumbled angrily against my permission and I could feel the way my throat was tightening and my eyes were stinging. Everything hurt and I wanted to let him know how much damage he caused. I had made a mistake and now I was trying to push it on him but it wasn't working because no matter what I said, it slid off his back without any harm. He had been right and now I had to grovel to have him let me keep Marvel. It was all about blackmail after all.

"No, you don't. And he doesn't either. He loves me, something that I don't think you deserve from him at this stage of the game," he muttered, shrugging causally as if he wasn't just tearing apart my whole life, shredding my morale and crippling my confidence.

"Why are you doing this?" I pleaded with him, changing my strategy because I was desperate. I wanted to be on his team; I didn't want to fight. I could feel the trail of tears already dropping from my face because he was taking away the only shred of joy I had here. He was killing me slowly with his attitude.

"You really don't get it, do you?" he murmured sadly and I could see that my tears had affected him. He eyes had gone glassy and he was clenching his jaw. His entire body was quivering in indecision.

Oh god, something was going to happen and I was powerless to stop it. Wait...

I looked at him in pleading; mouthing 'I'm sorry' as if apologizing to him would change anything. He wasn't the one that needed to hear it. Somehow though, it broke him just a little and the contents of the hard shell spilled out on the ground for me to clean up.

"I can't stand to see him with somebody else. He is mine and I don't care if we have broken up or not. I will fight until the very end. Go ahead label me. I've gotten 'obsessed' before, and 'stalker', and 'overly attached' and 'possessive' and 'freak'. I'm _trying_ to back off because for some god-forsaken reason—fuck if I know why—he likes you more than the rest. He lets you sleep on his fucking bed and—_and_ he promises you exclusivity which he has never even given to me, his fucking ex. I have tried but I can't lose him. So you're either sharing or you're preparing yourself for a fucking war."

He was crying.


	11. Like Building Sandcastles

_**As title says, this is a Bonus Chapter. I felt like I wanted you guys to know some background story about the Mafia Kids that could be best told in First Person Perspective. It would make Peeta seem too annoying and nosey if he kept insisting to know and frankly it couldn't wait because it was time to reveal some. The perspective changes accordingly, the title of each section should serve as your guide.**_

* * *

**Bonus Chapter: Like Building Sandcastles**

_Memories are strange. Sometimes they are blissful—sometimes filled with so much palpable pain. Sometimes they are created from scratch and sometimes suppressed to the point of extinction. They represent such a contrasting display of self-discipline because though the events portrayed have once been in your complete control, their repetition, their mental reincarnation, is completely beyond your power. It is fascinating to see what your subconscious deems significant. It is impossible to predict what your conscious mind will dwell on as you are lying in bed, darkness blinding your eyes to allow for your mind's eye to share. It is proven though that the most accurate retelling of a story derives from many different memories, many different unfoldings of the same event, detailing its creation from every point of view, every level along the way. After all, humans live in communities; their lives intertwine; their personalities affect each other. Their memories are created in unison._

_..._

_It's all about trusting your memories._

* * *

**Level 1: Marvel**

_(Matvey Aleksandr Solntsevskaya)_

"I'm thinking let's bunk beds and get a couch, hmm?" Cato asked for the thousandth time that day as we walked upstairs from the dining hall. My mouth was still busy munching on the soft texture of the banana and I used that as an excuse to not reply.

I rolled my eyes at his persistence. He widened his innocently in that puppy-dog way that he knew got me to do stuff for him, like bring him breakfast in bed, order him food and well actually usually things dealing with food. It wasn't working this time though. Even his baby blues wouldn't make me forget our last attempt at bunking. It was painful and I ended up with a stubbed toe and sore arms from having to constantly hoist frames and mattress around. No Cay, not this time.

"Why do we need a couch?" I asked instead, shrugging while he pouted, realizing he was entering another dead end.

"Coz couches are cool and then we can have people over," he explained, shutting up when looking at my scrunched up, confused face. I didn't particularly like having people over in my room. They talked too much about things I didn't care about and they sat on my bed. I didn't want anybody to sit on my bed.

"You know what we should do? Ask Jaime to will us his couch this year and then do the setup next year," Cato resigned, explaining his backup plan with an excited tone and I looked at him in amusement. He took for granted that we would room again next year though Haymitch had tried to dissuade me.

"Oh yeah great! You now what we should _actually_ do?_ Not_ do that," I imitated his tone, giggling at his fallen face while he pushed me into the wall lightly, huffing and crossing his arms. He might have whispered 'jerk' under his breath but I was laughing too hard to catch it. He got flustered so quickly.

"Marv, can I borrow you for a moment?" I heard Finnick's smooth voice call and I immediately turned around to face him, beaming happily. Just the sound of his voice send my heart fluttering. Where had he been all day? He hadn't even texted.

I heard Cato growl beside me, stopping at the same time to stare at the way Finnick was eyeing me, leaning on the door frame and motioning for me to get in his room. I knew they didn't like each other and every time Finnick asked me to do anything in Cato's presence, I never lived it down for a few days where my roomie would refer to me solely as "Finnick's cockboy". I wasn't amused—it actually stung a little—but I chuckled through it because I knew Cato meant no harm. He was just a big teddy bear. Besides he didn't actually know what happened between me and Finnick. He didn't know why I hated looking like I followed him around, catered to his every wish.

Entering the room, I didn't wait for his permission to jump on his fluffy bed and cuddle on the comforters while he looked around the room. It was filled with packed bags and boxes, littering the floor, piling on top of each other. I searched his eyes, confused, sitting up when I was met with his rarely serious expression. His eyes seemed to have lost all light and he was biting his lip, hands on his waist.

"Isn't a April too early to start packing?" I muttered, my hands on either side of me, gripping the bed spread like I had done many times in an attempt to silence my loud moaning. My dick twitched at the thought even though I knew Finnick needed hours of convincing and bottles of alcohol before he could let go long enough to finish me. Something about the situation told we didn't have hours—we had no time.

"You're leaving!" I whispered panicked, looking at him in fear and he grimaced, nodding. I stood frozen on the spot, mouth gaping and eyes pleading for an explanation. How could he go? He was the only one who knew! He was the only one who kept me sane! I couldn't breathe without him. I knew this was our last year together but it was April! Too soon! I was unprepared. Why was he doing this?

"I got called back, sweetie. I'm actually gonna go see your mama and papa," he murmured, chuckling a little to lighten the situation while I shook my head, frowning at him. I hated when he treated me like an absolute child. I hated when he couldn't trust me with family matters. He always said I was too young. Fuck that! I should have known.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier? You knew!" I screamed, jumping off the bed, glaring at him accusingly. I was angry because he didn't understand how much this hurt me. He only cared about himself.

"Don't raise your voice," he scolded me lightly, approaching my quivering frame and wrapping his arms around me. My body started to instinctually relax in his presence but I refused to hug back as much as I wanted to cling to his expensive shirt.

"You'll see me again, Marv. We knew this was going to happen. Stop doing that. Don't hyperventilate. Mattie! Don't make me regret getting close to you. You're not a crybaby, yes?," he asked me in a plain tone, a tinge of annoyance staining it when he thought I would have some sort of anxiety attack. I could have done it by the way my head hurt, whining at the quantity of thoughts running rampage. I was shaking in rage and I wanted to punch him so bad. At times he knew exactly what to say to get me to calm down and at other times, he was a dick about it, teasing me and making me feel bad about myself.

"You lied to me! You told me it was June," I complained, flinching at the way he sighed heavily, stepping back to look at my troubled face. Why was he pretending that he didn't care? Why was he being so fucking mean? What had I done wrong?

"I love you," I whispered, lowering my eyes so I didn't have to watch him roll his. He stayed silent for a while and my lip had turned white, aching between my teeth. Maybe if he knew he would stay; he would change the way he treated me. Maybe if he knew I would have a chance. He would realize it was beyond me; I couldn't help trembling when I saw him. I couldn't help how I felt. He was the only one who understood, the only one I could be myself with. I needed him! This _was_ love!

"You flatter me, babe, but remember what I told you before?" he murmured his tone a combination of sympathy and pity, "if you feel the need to say these things, it means you have lost."

* * *

**Level 2 – Finnick Odair**

_(Feliks Timur Ostrovsky)_

"Sir, with all due respect, I do not believe he is ready," I murmured, bowing my head when I was met with Sergei's stern gray eyes. He was staring at me in surprise as if he had forgotten I had the ability to voice an opinion. I didn't speak until I was spoken to. That was the best way to survive the Bratva. I had to speak now though because my stomach had dropped at the suggestion and I might have broken my uncaring front for a second; Ivan had noticed, smirking a little.

How could I not though? I had tried to make our relationship professional but I doubt anybody who got that close to him could keep themselves from getting attached. I took for granted how much having him sleep by my side, his innocent eyes opening in the morning as he gave me a sweet smile, connected me to him. He had wormed himself into my heart and though I didn't feel any love for him, that emotion being meticulously extracted from my demeanor, I felt something, compassion perhaps. I felt territorial.

"Feliks, I suggest you know your place," Ivan, Sergei's right hand man and advisor, stated in warning, pursing his lips and making me step back. I apologized against my will, bowing again and stepping to the back of the room. I had tried but sometimes you had to know when you were fighting a losing battle. No need to make enemies now.

I looked at the terrified, wrinkled face of the man, tied to the chair in the middle of the room, blindfolded so his eyes wouldn't fall upon the presence of the great Solntsevskaya boss. His frame was withered, fragile from starvation, and his skin looked translucent under the lit lamp, hanging above him. I didn't know who he was or what he had done because I wasn't in the upper circles; I was merely there because they needed me to control Marvel.

They had to make sure he wouldn't make an error and they knew he trusted me above all others including his own father. It made me smile to see him take my advice; it gave me this twisted sense of pride when he accomplished the tasks assigned to him. He was so much like me; he lived through so many of the same experiences that I had to relate; it was impossible to distance myself.

If I ever had a child, I wanted him to be like Marvel, perfect in every form, strong and lethal. I wanted Marvel to be my boy and I doubt he would refuse; he needed me. I knew the only reason his heart had started beating faster, his cheeks flushing, when he had first seen me was because I had somehow filled that empty spot of the caretaker in his life. He couldn't decide on what he wanted from me because at times, he just wanted to sleep in my arms while other times he was driven by his lust to seek my complete attention.

If it had been anyone other than me, they would have gone insane because even at fucking fourteen, a child, a minor, he was so sexually attractive. I had fucked many though so I had restrained myself, pleading for him to understand that touching him in any way would mean sexual offender status for nineteen year old me. Though that excuse had been just that, a mere excuse, he had bought it and in turn bought me more time to gain control over my libido.

In the end, I had fucked him because I couldn't help it. I wouldn't deny that and I stood by my decision even when his father confronted me, asking the most perverse questions. I had fucked him and it was the best fuck of my prostitute life. And what had his dad said in return, his responsible, caring guardian?

"I am starting to think he will surpass you very fast, Feliks. Look at my little spidey catching even professionals like you in his web."

He had laughed and I had smiled in disgust, keeping my mouth shut to prevent from losing my tongue. At times like that I hated being a Leech. I hated being looked down by my colleges simply because I used my body to gain information. I saved their asses. I did more for this organization than all of the other soldiers put together. Where was my glory? My respect?

For that reason I had slipped to Marvel, in the silence of the night when he was cuddled against my chest, breathing heavily about the pressures his father placed on him, a statement that would have gotten me punished had it been recorded:

"Your father wants you to be a Leech but you deserve the title; you deserve to be the king of his empire and I'm gonna see to it until the moment I stop breathing that you get what you deserve."

I did think Sergei miscalculated when he approached me with one task: train Marvel, make him ready for the real world, teach him to be like you. I didn't think he realized that the power dynamic had shifted and by giving me that chance, he had essentially give me his son and now I wasn't about to give him back. That miscalculation would be his downfall eventually. I wouldn't fight to make it happen, no, I would sit tight and wait for Marvel to realize how much higher than all of these old farts he actually was. When he did, I would be the only one who stood by him, made him someone. Maybe then I would get some respect.

When Marvel walked in that day, he looked over at me and I stared back at him, smiling confidently, encouraging him to show them, shock them. He was older now; he wasn't that same scared boy that clung to the end of my coat when I opened the door of the taxi. He hadn't shown me sadness ever since I left him that day and sometimes I doubted he even felt anything anymore. I had taught him right and yet it felt disappointing to have him stare at me in disinterest; I wanted his admiration.

He hesitated when they placed the revolver in his hands and he searched for comfort quickly, gulping lost like a child. His hands were shaking and I had known it was too early but I wasn't about to lose.

I made a move then, coming forward and kissing him slightly on the forehead, an action, which caused them to expel me from the room, scoffing and glaring at my disobedience. I didn't mind. I had done my job and when I stood behind the door, the back of my head against its cool surface, I heard the shot fire and I smiled in pride.

No matter how much they tried to break him, he wouldn't disappoint, and when he came out, droplets of blood staining his innocent cheeks, I ruffled his hair affectionately, grabbed his hand and took him out for ice cream.

I didn't know if his father was proud or disappointed. I didn't know what he expected. I felt like I had won though.

Point.

Period.

* * *

**Level 3 - Katniss Everdeen**

I didn't think smoking right outside Brighton was the best idea in the world, seeing as we could be easily spotted but Darius insisted that nobody really cared that much, especially not Brutus who had been seen smoking with other students.

Besides, cigarettes could only get you a warning; it was the illegal stuff the Mafia brats did that got you disciplined. It seemed unfair that nobody ever caught them no matter how much they abused their power. Our entire English class was fairly certain Cato came in under some sort of influence every single day. Rumors said he was snorting coke and by his anger outbursts, I knew there was some truth in them no matter how much the other brats tried to keep it on the down low.

He was such a stupid idiot, wasting this opportunity for education because he couldn't survive on his own serotonin. I had thought for a second that he was different from the rest, that he actually cared about creating his own identity, breaking away from his family's path.

When you were in class with him, he transformed from his usual toolish self and I had been fooled like the rest of them. I had thought that his sitting next to me, blurting sarcastic remarks here and there that rarely made me outwardly chuckle, had been something special, a bond that he had managed to build with someone that wasn't worshipping him. I had felt noticed and though I would never admit it to myself, I had found his companionship pleasant.

He had come in freshman year, announcing to everyone that he wanted to prove that blondes weren't as dumb as everybody thought. He was a tease, a flirt, but at least he had that will to fight through and endure our disapproving scowls. He believed in himself.

These days, he didn't even have that to make him more bearable. He came in, wasted our time with his complaints and bitter remarks, kept checking his phone compulsively for his whore of a boyfriend's texts and making everyone feel guilty for events that must have been going on in his life that we didn't even know, let alone had a say in.

He had become the stereotypical spoiled, rich kid, treating us like inferiors, disrespecting the teacher that he used to love and acting without a second thought, hurting people without regret. It was when he slipped from that perfect image of self-control that I realized he was exactly like the rest of them. They would never grow up to be different from their parents.

I had experienced one of his confrontations before, rolling my eyes at his front. Aggression helped him feel better because it lied to him, telling him he had some form of authority over his life. Yet it was completely different when you witnessed it first hand.

He had come stomping towards us with his usually frown, his jacket fluttering in the chilly wind of early March while his eyes never leaving his target. I had sensed him, placing my usual distant look to guard my emotions while Darius had visibly stiffened in preparation, though he had kept that light, cheerful smile on his face. I had not known what it was about but by the way Darius smirked slyly when Cato stood in front of him, I knew I was the only one lost.

"Hey Cato. Wanna smoke with us?" he asked causally, offering him his own cigarette while I had mine hidden behind my back because I didn't trust the blonde who snarled, grabbing the object and flinging it on the ground.

"Not cool, man—" Darius had time to mutter jokingly before Cato had him rammed against the wall with a forearm against his throat and a hand clutching the collar of his shirt. I yelped, warning Cato off but he ignored me, glaring at the redhead with such hatred that for a second I had to stare at Darius in questioning to understand what he had done.

"Stay away from my boyfriend, you cunt, or I swear to God, I will beat the shit out of you. Is that clear?" I heard Cato threaten under his breath and I gulped, frozen in spot because everyone knew how badly some of Cato's other victims had ended up, bleeding and limping through the hallways, pointedly ignoring the oblivious Marvel like the plague. He was merciless when he was riled up and I could see by the way his hands were shaking, banging Darius up against the wall repeatedly and painfully, that he was furious.

"I didn't do shit, you jealous bitch. Control yourself," Darius blurted back, pushing him away because he was pretty big and he could usually hold his own. I smiled faintly when I saw Cato caught by surprise as he regained his footing, looking between the two of us. We had both grown up in the same shitty neighborhood of New York and I didn't think Cato, the little rich bitch who lived in Greenwich Village, should have messed with Darius in the first place.

Now they were both growling, sizing each other up in silence. I thought Darius would be the bigger man but apparently I had misjudged him too because he smiled evilly, opening his mouth to further irritate the trapped animal that was Cato. It was difficult not to take advantage of the blonde when he was this vulnerable.

"If you want to know who your whore is really sleeping with, ask Nick, your bestie. I bet he will tell you about all sorts of tricks little Marvie can do with his mouth," Darius spit out, venom leaking from his tone and I whispered his name, disappointed, trying to approach him because Cato was now sizzling like a boiling pot with that insane look in his eyes that I had seen only in the most desperate criminals. He was hurt because Darius had hit below the belt, insulting his pride, mocking his lack of control, demeaning his flighty boyfriend and making him doubt his friendships. He felt alone and ambushed by everyone. I almost pitied him.

Before I had the chance to scream, the blonde had punched Darius in the stomach hard enough for him to double over before grasping his jaw with one hand, the other one holding a pocketknife close to his throat. Darius gasped, staying put, his hands by his sides while Cato bared his teeth, his eyes gleaming as much as the metallic surface of the knife. My hands shook, covering my mouth and I panicked, not knowing what to do, inching towards the ground to grab some sort of weapon. Could I knock him out? Should I run to get some help? How far was this going to go?

"Are we feeling froggy today, pussy? Say that one more time, I dare you. I will cut that filthy tongue of yours once and for all," Cato whispered menacingly, smirking at him in pure sadistic glee and waving the knife in front of Darius' fearful face.

Nobody moved; Darius gulped, his eyes never leaving Cato's storming blue ones. The blonde moved away, pocketing the weapon and straightening his clothes. I moved closer to Darius who was panting slightly, still looking at Cato distrustfully.

"I will have that smoke now actually," Cato murmured, smiling innocently at our shocked faces, grasping the cigarette that was forgotten in my hand, putting it in his mouth and walking away without as much as a second glance.

I was reminded of why I hated this guy while Darius grasped my hand and shook his head to stop me from screaming something at the asshole, stopping me from telling people that he was a danger to everyone in his vicinity.

* * *

**Level 4 - Sonny**

_(Shunsuke Shinoda)_

Sitting on my desk, I was spinning my phone on the table apathetically, refusing to look at the lit up computer screen. It was late and I had to finish an essay for tomorrow, an essay that I hadn't even started. I had thought the room being quiet would help but I just ended up thinking about Marvel, worrying about when he would get back. It was storming outside.

Hockey had become unbearable these days. Marvel and I had to stay late to clean up almost every single fucking day because we were the youngest in the team. Seniority was annoying and unfair. We had to waste time, cleaning up after all the jerks when we didn't even get much playing time anyway. Marvel had stopped complaining though; he usually like stalling for time and I had soon learned it was because he was scared to confront Cato when we got to the dorm.

I didn't like what was happening with them; I had talked about it with Clove and Thresh. They agreed that the boys used to be much happier just being best friends but it was impossible to intervene because when they had good times, they had blissful times. The relationship was wavy these days, fluctuating between squealing and screaming but it hadn't always been like that. We had thought it was the most adorable thing in the world; it made us all puke in our mouths a little.

The very beginning of it had been nothing but smiles and laughs; Cato had transformed into the best boyfriend anybody had ever seen, waiting outside for us to finish hockey during cold days with an extra jacket to cuddle Marvel in, helping him with homework, taking him out to Boston whenever he was in a bad mood. He had always been there to pick Marvel up during bad times and looking at how happy my roommate was all the time, sleeping over at the other's room, I knew it was what Marvel needed. I thought he had gotten over his trepidation when it came to relationships. I didn't know exactly what happened his freshman year but I had been told it made Marvel shy away from anything that involved commitment.

The door opened and I looked up to see him stroll in, wet to the bone from the rain showering the window outside, his hair barely saved by the windbreaker and his face flushed, his eyes lost. I coughed to get his attention because by the way he immediately discarded his jacket, throwing it on the floor, and sat himself in the sanctuary under his bed; I knew he was in no mood to talk.

He was going back into his little cave where he lay on his beanbag, eating out of a gigantic bag of SweeTarts and pretending to not be there when Clove and Cato came looking for him. We called it "dragon sleeping" because he always compared himself to a dragon in a cave, hibernating before his hunts. I usually helped him with it but I felt the need to be an actual good friend today even if that meant hurting him a little now to save him in the long run.

"Did you go Boston today, Marv?" I asked causally, leaning back on my chair to glimpse at his draping form. He grunted, understanding he would have some explaining to do. I knew I was right because of the way he was dressed. He always looked extra spiffy when he went to the city. I was scared to ask him about his nighttime activities. I looked back at the blank word document, sighing once before looking away, resigning to another all-nighter.

He was on his stomach, head in his hands and I knew sooner or later I would have to crawl down there on all fours to drag him out. Usually when I didn't, he ended up spending the night there in a fetal position while Cato worried sick about him not being in his room. I just sat there, awkwardly smiling with my nervous, fake grin, trying not to glance at Marvel's snoozing form as the blonde leaned against the door frame, growling about his boyfriend's location. The hiding was becoming ridiculous.

"Yeah," he muttered under his breath, shuffling a little to get comfortable. His clothes were still wet and I wondered if he would bother to change them. I didn't want him to catch a cold and leave me to deal with the Hockey seniors on my own. I also knew that when he refused to change in front of me it was usually because he was ashamed of all the bruises he let Cato inflict on him. He tried to hide them and he usually succeeded when they weren't on his face. I always grit my teeth, keeping my mouth shut because I was pretty scared of Cato and I didn't know what to do. If Thresh wasn't helping, I was too useless to come in handy. All I was good for was distracting people with my stupid, loud voice. I was no hero. Cato was Marvel's hero.

"But you were not with Cato?" I asked, sighing and standing up from my chair to inch my way towards him. His breath hitched and I saw his body tense as I sat myself at the mouth of his cave, crossing my legs and offering him my hoodie, knowing he would want to change out of his shirt.

"No, I wasn't," he admitted, looking at me through guilty eyes, biting his lip. I nodded gravely, thinking of what to say next still offering him my shirt like a shrine.

"I can't. Cato will probably not like that," he muttered, shaking his head and pushing my shirt back towards me. I frowned because I didn't think it was such a big deal. We shared clothes all the time and the blonde's jealousy was growing out of proportion. He knew we were on his side; he knew I would never see Marvel as anything more than my best friend yet he stomped around, asserting himself using his anger.

"Don't tell Cato," I murmured, standing up to go rummage his drawers for another shirt, coming back to him with one of his hoodies.

"About the shirt?" he asked dumbly, looking at me in appreciation, sitting up and changing swiftly. I shook my head, my eyes not amused. I wanted him to take me seriously, which was a pretty hard thing to do when it came to the persona I had chosen to display to people.

"About your little escapades. Keep it to yourself, please bro," I stated again seriously and his face fell, his lips opening and closing with nothing to say. He was caught off guard and he was struggling. I knew he hated lying to the blonde but couldn't he understand that telling the truth was worse?

* * *

**Level 5 - Thresh**

_(Tinashe Yeboah)_

"I hate him," he mumbled from his position on the floor, his head resting against his shaking arms and his red-rimmed eyes rooted to a random spot under my bed.

Judging by the state of his attire, I knew he hadn't gone out today which automatically meant he had stayed inside brooding and getting his body more addicted to the substance. I felt terribly guilty for having first introduced him to the white powder so now I found myself sitting crossed-legged next to his trembling form, comforting him with my gentle, useless words. He didn't want me—he wanted his boyfriend.

"Break up with him then," I muttered back, frowning at the way his frame flinched and his eyes shot to mine in fear as if I had the power to distance them, take them away from each other. I didn't—nobody did.

"He said he was going to the library to study. Do you believe that? That little fucker—I hate him," he repeated again, completely ignoring my suggestion, silently telling me that he was powerless to change that situation and was now only looking for other solutions. His eyes had started to tear up, which told me that the anger was soon to follow. He would be back tonight after he was done committing acts he regretted. I wished Marvel slept somewhere else.

I stayed silent, shrugging slightly and looking at him in sympathy. I would tell him he was being paranoid because that was one of the side effects of his addiction but I couldn't because he was right. Marvel was probably fucking some bitch flat against a table. With every scream that his next choice of partner unleashed, Cato was further breaking down, his anger flaring to the point that he sought revenge. They were toxic and the more I tried to get in between them, protect them from each other, the more they poisoned me with their conflicts.

"Why am I not good enough for him, Thresh?" he whispered in a heart-wrenching tone and I hurried to step closer to him and lightly touch him on the head because I knew that the situation had rapidly escalated from anger to depression. That emotion I was sure was only magnified by his crashes. With every fix I gave him, he was becoming further drowned in the addiction. He was flailing between control and dependence.

Yet I couldn't stop because when he went through withdrawal he fell so hard that it was impossible to emotionally pick him up anymore. For some time I thought Marvel could do it so I hated him for whoring himself out while the blonde cried himself to sleep. Then I noticed that every time the younger one tried, he came back with bruises and cuts. He came back limping with trembling lips. Yet he never came back crying which surprised me.

"It's not that, Cato. You know it's not that. He loves you more than he's loved anything in his life—" I started my usual explanation because no matter how many times I said it, he needed to hear it. Nothing of his past knowledge came with him in that state of bodily arousal so he was lost in his emotions. The repetition had made the words plastic.

I hadn't expected his reaction this time. This addition was new and I would make sure I didn't miscalculate again in the future. He sat up swiftly, rocking back and forth, his fingers threading violently through his short, sweaty, blonde hair. His eyes were angry and betrayed, yet they were wet with weakness.

"That's not true! If he loved me even half of what he loved—fuck maybe _loves_—Finnick, we wouldn't be here right now. Am I—am I just his replacement?" he screamed, his voice breaking at the name and I sighed, knowing he had gone through Marvel's phone again, against all of our advice. Finnick only came up in conversation after he found out with shaking fingers and a seizing heart that Marvel still called the other gorgeous blonde. I didn't think he was in a state to understand that Finnick was Marvel's escape.

"Cato—Niki! Please. You're better than this. You know Marv doesn't look at Finnick like that anymore. He just has this whole daddy complex when it comes to him. It's weird, yes but he's lost too," I told him in a gentle voice, laying my hands on his shoulders lightly before touching his face when I saw that he wasn't going to overreact. He sighed, nodding.

"Finnick is a sick, pedophile fuck. He doesn't deserve Marvel. If I could kill him, I would," he mumbled, laying back on the wall and I moved away, sitting in front of him, knowing he had calmed down somewhat. Threats towards the other's life were common, harmless when it came to Cato.

"You _can _kill him," I blurted out, giving him a cheeky smile and he gave me a faint one in return, part of his smug look coming back. I liked seeing him confident. He didn't look good defeated, nuzzling the floor and screaming for Marvel to come back to him. I had seen him on those destructive days. I had seen the aftermath on Marvel's face.

Toxic.

"If it was socially acceptable and uncle Sergei wouldn't object, I would kill him," Cato repeated, chuckling a little and I laughed along with him because I desperately wanted him to forget about his insecurities tonight. He fell silent after his little moment of joy. From the way he bit his lip, silently opening and closing his mouth, I knew he had fucked up.

"I slept with Glimmer," he blurted guiltily, frowning at himself and looking at me pouting, wanting me to ease his fear. I gawked, stuttering to answer him because this was beyond my experience with him. He never went this far. He never got this vengeful—he knew that was Marvel's ultimate fear; we all knew by the way he clung on to Cato every time Glimmer was around.

"Cato—why? Don't tell Marvel. You know how much he will hurt—" I rambled on uselessly because he was shaking his head, telling me that he wasn't going to be easy.

"No! I'm done being the loyal fool. I want to hurt him like fucking hurts me every single day. I want to make him cry!" he growled menacingly and I could see by the way his fists crashed against the drawers behind him that he was hurting himself more in the process.

He was starting to become restless and his mood swings were more unpredictable. I bit my lip, trying to think of how to contain him so he didn't end up sobbing against his bed with bloody hands and a broken heart.

"He doesn't mean it, blondie. We both know he's satyriasis is compulsive. You're his wall Cato—he can't go on without you. You can't—" I started, trying to make him understand how vulnerable Marvel really was.I couldn't save both of them at once and I was sitting there, watching them self-destruct.

Had he never looked under the long-sleeved shirts?

* * *

**Level 6 – Cato**

_(Nikita Yuri Arshavin)_

I couldn't read. The words merged together. Every time I touched the book, a surge of anger built within me. Brutus was breaking my balls about my failing. He didn't understand that my life was much more than a few stupid romances and a couple of retarded essays. English would never help with anything. It wasn't worth my time and neither was this stupid school. What was the point anyway? They would eventually recruit us and all we would need to know would be how to shoot a gun and make the hard decision to take somebody's loved ones away.

I had thought I wanted to go to Stanford; it had been my dream school for so long. It had everything I wanted and they had looked past my freshman year grades because of my Tennis performance. I could be happy there but now Marvel was in the picture. He was looking at Princeton, Columbia—schools on the east side, close to New York. I hated the idea of studying so close to home but I absolutely loathed the idea of studying six hours away from him. I wanted to be with him and I didn't know what to do.

I started tearing the pages of the book one by one because I liked the ripping sound; it kept me from thinking about Marvel, I noticed. It fascinated me how easy they were to break apart, destroy.

Where was he? He said he wanted to go to the library. I should have gone with him. Why did he need to look so good if he was just going to study? Why did he always have to look so fucking good so that everybody had to turn their heads to stare at his ass and make comments about his sultry lips? Couldn't they understand he was mine? I had my arms around him, my face in his hair! He was always by my side.

I was suffocating him. He didn't want to be with me. No! Lies! He did otherwise he wouldn't crawl into my arms and whisper that he loved me. He loved me. He had never said that to anybody else. He was mine. We were in a relationship yet they didn't back off and he didn't make them because he liked their advances. They made him grin; they made him giggle. He was a slut. He liked having attention and mine was not enough; mine was never enough.

I realized I had gone through half of the book, the discarded pages crumpled and surrounding me, building a nest of destruction against my aching limbs. I realized my breath was speeding up and the knot was forming in the back of my throat. I wouldn't cry for him today. I had shed all my tears; now there was just anger.

Anger at the way he looked at me in sympathy when he was about to close the door to leave me again, leave me for somebody else, somebody that screamed his name and clawed his back while I buried my face in my bed, looking at the pictures of us to stop from following him. Anger at the way he whimpered in pain when I slammed him against the wall, ripping his clothes off and checking his body for marks. Because I would murder anyone that marked him. He was mine!

I threw Dostoyevsky against the wall with a growl, standing up and pacing around the room. I wouldn't perch myself on the window to wait for him like a dog. He wasn't worth that. I would make him regret. I would condition him to feel so much pain that even the idea of running off again would send his body into fear. Every step felt like it energized me more, fueled me with rage, blinded me with jealousy. I wanted to go out and look for him, track him down.

Was the ginger right? Was he with Nick? Nick, that son of a bitch who I trusted—it couldn't be him. He would want to top. Marvel didn't let anyone top but me. I was the only one he hugged and pushed against, his eyes searching mine and his legs wrapped around my waist possessively. I was the only one he trusted enough to touch that secret spot inside him while he screamed my name and trembled in my arms. It couldn't be Nick. Marvel didn't like douches like him; Marvel liked me. He loved me.

For safe measure, I would talk to Nick tomorrow. I would fuck him up so badly. I would break both his legs so he never played soccer again, that cunt. My hands had started shaking, my chest hurt and I could feel the sweat dripping down my forehead. The room was so hot; when was the last time I opened the window? When was the last time I left? I stripped from my shirt and stared at the mirror; the hickeys he had left when he had hungrily moved against me yesterday still littered my collarbone. He would come back. I just needed to relax in the mean time. I needed a fix. If I were calm, I wouldn't hurt him.

I looked at the drawers for the baggie; it was empty, a few sprinkles of the white powder staining the transparent container. I needed more. My body was panicking scrambling around and throwing stuff on the floor but I knew all I had to do was go to Thresh. I didn't need more now; did I? I didn't want to be too mad when he came back. I knew I would hurt him—he had hockey tomorrow. I couldn't—

The door opened hesitantly and he stood there, his hood on his head and his eyes glistening in that guilty pleasure. He had fucked up. I wanted to grab him—break his arms—but he was biting his lip and I clenched my fist against the edge of the drawers to keep myself grounded.

Please don't let me hurt him today. Dear lord give me some self-control.

The bruise from last night was still on his jaw, fading in an ugly yellow color. He whispered my name and came forward to touch me, hiding behind his oversized hoodie. What was he hiding? Shit, no. Breathe. He's your little baby. You can't hurt him.

I looked at him in pleading, trying to take control over the anger and the sadness. I didn't know what I wanted to show him. I felt betrayed. I didn't deserve this. This wasn't fair. He stood there cocking his head sideways before making a decision that the path was safe. It wasn't.

Don't Marvel please.

The door slammed closed and he rammed against my chest, his arms holding me in place while he nuzzled my shirt. I took a deep breath, feeling his fear, hearing his hear thumping against my chest. My hands moved up to touch his hair, his face, his entire body as if I was doing one of those body scans in the airport. I loved feeling him move against my touch, look up to me as if I was his world with those eyes that said: "I screwed up but please don't leave me."

I kissed him in the forehead, smiling faintly because I thought this was the end of the pain. He was here now and I didn't need to be torturing myself. Then he spoke.

"I am sorry, Niki, but I think we should stop doing this," he apologized, uttering that shocking statement for the first time in his life, and I pushed him away, trembling and stuttering. I couldn't believe he was leaving me; he was the one to give up first. After all the pain I had been through, he was the one who decided to move away?

Why did he have to ruin it? Why did he have to remind me of his bullshit? Why couldn't he be like a normal person who cheated and never told anyone? Why did he have to feel guilty?

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. This wasn't happening.

I growled, clutching my hair and he stared at me, communicating with my already irrational brain and encouraging it by saying "It's okay to hurt me because I did wrong." Stupid little boy.

I saw red. I knew he wouldn't fight back and yet I couldn't stop attacking him until Thresh had wrapped me tight against his chest and Sonny was holding my flushed face, forcing me to look at his concerned eyes.

The red was gone and only then, once I blinked the blurry tears away, did I notice how much he was bleeding and how little he was breathing. He was on the floor, practically passed out, and by how shaken Sonny seemed, I knew this time it was different. Had he even screamed? How did they find us?

Clove was by his side, touching his hair gently as if he was breakable and when Thresh released me, I fell on my knees, punching the floor and banging my head against it because I had done it again for the last time.

Now that our eyes were in the same level, I could see how empty his were and it filled mine with emotion.

I cried for both of us that night because I knew he couldn't.

* * *

**Level 7 - Glimmer **

_(Dunyasha Olga __Solntsevskaya_)

I sprinted down the stairs, holding the tears back. The people I passed by looked at me in worry because my makeup was running down my face, staining my cheeks with a watery black. I had been told I was an ugly crier and I had learnt to swallow my pride, knowing that I couldn't stop the tears from coming down when I was angry and sad. At the moment, that was at the bottom of the pyramid.

I didn't bother to knock, racing against the clock, barging into his room to find him sitting on the floor. His usual baseball cap was on his head, shielding his face from my eyes. The moment his body became visible, he flinched violently, further hiding from my view. He didn't bother to look at me and for a second I thought he knew what I had done; he had given up.

More tears fell on the carpet, staining it with my sorrow.

"Brother, I am so sorry," I whispered between my sniveling and I saw the way he looked up at me from under the shadow that the cap bestowed on his face with his green eyes shining in surprise and confusion. His lip was split; blood gathering unattractively to one side of the bottom lip and his body was trembling inside his gigantic hoodie.

"What did you do, Glim?" he asked hesitantly, his voice turning high-pitched when he looked at my broken state and I rushed to him to envelop him in my arms because he was just my baby brother and he was hurt. I couldn't let the world see him like that.

My arms fell around his neck, grasping him to my body and I could tell by how hard he was quivering that my actions were only increasing his fear. His arms went to gently push me away and he looked at me lost, his fingers clinging to my shirt like they did when he was young and he couldn't quite walk without support, like they did when mother came in and he didn't want to go with her. He never wanted to go with her and I had done this.

"Glimmer, what are you doing?" I heard Finnick inquire from the outside and I could tell he was walking towards the room because his voice was coming closer. He was irritated at having to chase me around. My hand clutched Marvel's as he jumped awake, looking at me accusingly.

"Glim! You told him? How could you? No, no, sister, I can't go back," he rambled panicked, his breath hyperventilating and his mouth becoming dry, rasping out the sentences as his fingers grabbed the sheets on the bed, trying to find anything that would protect him.

"I am so sorry, Sasha. I hope one day you will forgive me, my baby brother, my little one," I had time to whisper wetly, grabbing his face and kissing him on the temple, keeping him to myself as he started shaking his head in denial. He was scared and all I could repeat under my breath was "Stay strong. Don't let them see you cry, my champion".

Finnick came in, strolling through the floor rapidly, worry creasing his features and standing above us, looking at me with that stern look that my parents always gave me, the look that said "Remove yourself. You are unnecessary in this situation", the look that said I was a burden.

"Glimmer move," he ordered and I sobbed, placing a palm on my mouth to silence my weakness, as I stood up, inching away from where my twin had fallen silent, looking at the ground. I could tell Finnick was getting impatient and I hoped that Marvel did not decide to fight him; Finnick only wanted his best. He was there to protect us, well him; I didn't really matter.

"Marv, sweetheart, stand up for me. Don't be difficult," Finnick mumbled in what I assumed he thought was a gentle tone, crouching in front of my brother and lightly grasping his arm, to motion for him to stand up by pulling on his sleeve. I couldn't help but think that his tone sounded like he was addressing a misbehaving child; Finnick never did get over the idea that Marvel was a man now; he was all grown up and he wasn't wrapped in the blonde's aura anymore.

"Don't touch me," I heard Marvel growl under his breath, shaking his hand free and keeping his eyes down. He wasn't submitting; he was hiding the evidence. He was protecting Cato like he always did.

Finnick sighed as if he was annoyed and didn't have time for these stupid games before ripping the cap off his head and forcing his face up. Marvel's entire body flinched and I sobbed out a 'don't' but it was too late because now he was staring back and forth between our similar faces with a shocked look and I felt guilty, guilty for not telling sooner and guilty for having told. There was no way out.

"Shit baby, your beautiful face. Glimmer, how could you let this get this far? Do you see the state he's in? How could you not have been a little more attentive, for fuck's sake?" Finnick was yelling now and I was too horrified looking at the gigantic mauve bruise on Marvel's left side, spreading to cover his eye and making his cheek swell up unattractively. It had never been this bad. I looked down in shame. This was all my fault. Finnick had every right to tell me so.

"And you! My fucking god! Pick yourself up from the floor, you stupid child. How did you let him touch you? Why didn't you fight back? Do you have any control over your life?" Finnick was now screaming at his face and he couldn't tell that it wasn't having the right effect because Marvel was just glaring at him, his lips unwavering, hissing when Finnick grasped his forearm and dragged him to his feet.

Marvel stumbled when up, holding on the bed for support, whimpering and that broke through Finnick's tough façade because no matter how much he tried to hide it, he treated Marvel like his child; he thought in some twisted demented way that he had raised him, made him successful.

"Mattie, sweetheart. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm only here to protect you, baby. Can you cooperate a little? Can you stand? What hurts?" Finnick asked gentler, approaching the teen and lightly touching his hair, his face, supporting him up with his chest. He had completely transformed his approach but I knew Marvel was having none of it. He was silent in shock and denial.

"I want Cato. Take me to Cato," I heard him whisper and Finnick glared at me with such anger that I gulped, wringing my hands. He hugged my brother to his chest, pretending not to have heard that even after this chaos, he still thought he needed his abuser.

What Finnick would never know was that Marvel would always need Cato more than all of us disappointments that tried and failed to protect him combined. Or maybe he did know because that day he dragged the screaming Marvel to the car while Thresh held a furious Sonny back and while I made sure Clove never found out.

Marvel never stopped screaming for Cato and when the blonde did come back to glance at a fleeting glimpse of Marvel's state, he had never been more devastated. He locked himself in his room and never came out though we all stood behind his door, begging for him to let us in and listening to objects crashing on the other side.

* * *

**Level 8 - Haymitch Abernathy**

I heard the commotion, the screams and the yells invading the hallways of the dorm, and it made me turn off the TV to run downstairs. My first thought was that the boys were playing their usual games and then my second thought was that the boys were fighting, that Cato had broken the rules again and I would have to grit my teeth to stop myself from telling the deans because looking at Marvel transform from the happy-go-lucky kid to the one that avoided going out in public, kept his eyes down and didn't talk to his friends, was heartbreaking and unacceptable.

I didn't bother to change my clothes but I realized I should have because on my way out, I bumped into Finnick Odair, looking like he was going to murder someone with his glare, stomping through the dorm in his tan trench coat, bumping onto me, completely ignoring my presence. I forgot for a second that this guy had once been nothing but a tiny freshman, looking up at me with his blue eyes and his curly blonde hair. He had come here innocent and playful; he had gone out arrogant and dangerous.

He was not that child anymore; he was old, deadly and brutal. He was the main link between the Russian mafia and their children. He came around, flaunting all his achievements, and growling when others stepped in his territory. He knew though he had lost ground because lately when he came bearing gifts, winking at his boy, Marvel would be nuzzling against Cato, loving the way the blonde showered him in attention. He didn't run up to the visitor all kisses and hugs.

"What's happening?" I asked him lazily and he spared me a glance before pretending not to have noticed I was even there, entering Marvel's room and violently shoving clothes from the drawers in a bag, not bothering to look at what he was taking with him.

"Finnick!" I grunted, scowling at him to show him that I wasn't playing, that I wouldn't let a runt that used to call me 'sir' disrespect me, walk into the dorm as if he owned the place.

"Haymitch. I will be blunt because as you see I am kind of in a rush. You fucked up; I'm taking Marvel back to his parents. Expect some sort of punishment and stop pretending you have anything under control," he stated sardonically, never stopping his packing and throwing the bag over his shoulder when he was done. He stood in front of me, waiting for me to move away from the door but I was frozen in the spot and I couldn't let him pass because that meant that he was taking Marvel with him. I knew the younger one didn't want to go.

"Where is he?" I asked, growling and not backing down even when he snarled, baring his teeth, the hand holding the strap of the bag becoming deathly white.

"Not any of your concern_, sir,_ now move please," he gritted through his teeth, making to cross on one side of me before I stepped in front of him, towering with my height. I was not amused by his bite and I knew the respect was all a pretense he was putting up to further belittle me, demean my authority.

He didn't used to be like this; he was polite. It was clear that his tiny, cute nose had been conditioned to always be up in the air and his beautiful aqua eyes had been permanently told to display that condescending look so many had accused him of having his senior year.

"As long as he lives in this dorm, he is very much my concern. I have responsibility over him!" I snapped at him, placing an arm across the doorway, blocking his path while he rolled his eyes.

"Really now? Then why is he hurt, Haymitch? Why are you letting him get abused in a state where even hazing can get you locked up for years? And don't tell me you didn't notice; half of his face looks like Freddie fucking Krueger," he vented, motioning with his arms angrily while I bit my lip because he was right; I had known and I had let it be because I was weak.

"Exactly what I thought. Step aside, old man, and pray that his father wont burst a blood vessel—" he started saying and I scoffed before I could help myself, blurting out my next statement out of anger and jealousy. Anger because I didn't like how he pushed me around, the little bitch. Jealousy because I wished I could play the hero too; show up at the right time to 'save' Marvel and proceed to kiss his father's rich ass.

"—When he realizes the property damage. Let's face it, Finnick. This is only a big deal because his appearance matters more than his actual happiness," I muttered sarcastically, scowling in disappointment and he didn't make a move to prove me wrong. He stood there shrugging as if there was nothing wrong with the statement; he was taunting me with his eyes, telling me that I was a fool if I thought those words would sting.

"Right because if he wasn't beautiful, abuse would be acceptable. Haymitch please, get a hold of yourself. He is waiting for me in the car. Excuse you for a second?" he muttered, pushing me aside violently and this time the respect was all gone. I rammed into the door, grunting and holding my shoulder while he swiftly walked outside, giving me one final smirk and salute before disappearing from my sight.

"I am sorry," I heard someone murmur from behind me and I masked my emotions quickly, turning around to see a teary-eyed Glimmer, holding herself, her eyes on the floor, "I had to do it because he wasn't stopping. He's my baby brother; I couldn't see him bleeding a day longer."

"It's alright, Glim. You did the right thing," I whispered, hugging her to my chest as she began bawling. I noticed Thresh sitting outside of Cato's bedroom, head in his hands and I knew that the blonde was suffering inside, refusing to come out and ask for help.

I knew he had to be removed because I had made one mistake, sacrificed one of them, but I would save the other. I wouldn't let him become like the rest of the mafia, spoiled, ruthless, addicted to drugs and blinded by the sight of money.

The fact that he was crying right now proved that he had a heart and I wouldn't let Finnick take it away like he had done with Marvel's.

* * *

**Level 9 - Clove**

_(Katrina Jelena Yurkovich)_

The dorm was quiet without the two of them running around. They always held some sort of presence, whether it was an intimidating one or a laid-back, easy-going feel. But now they were gone and going out, sitting with Thresh, Glimmer and Sonny felt like mourning.

We wouldn't talk; Glimmer refused to even look at us and Sonny had not smiled since the day his room became a single. I tried to keep up appearances for the sake of the group, spread out and put an end to some of the rumors burdening the school but it was hard knowing the truth. I sometimes wished I were as ignorant as the girls, sending 'get well' cards to their idols, cards that never arrived at their destinations.

The phone rang and I gaped, gasping at the ID before picking it up with an excited tone. My heart started beating faster. I sunk to the ground at the edge of my bed, burrowing in the corner.

"Cato!" I yelped, smiling at myself like a fool while he chuckled lightly on the other side. I could tell it was fake though. His breathing was rough against the receiver and he sounded exhausted. I waited for his dry tone to greet my ears again.

"Hey Clove," he drawled, his voice a little raspy and for a second I remembered how hard he had screamed the day they took him to rehab—the day they dragged Marvel away against both their wills. I shuddered in recollection.

"How are you? How are you holding up? We've missed you," I rambled, speeding my sentences because I wanted him to talk. I didn't want to hear my own frail voice.

"I'm okay. It's a little gloomy in here. Ha. These phones don't have chords—they think I might choke someone with it," he blurted out and I chuckled along with him though I knew this was just a cover; it wasn't what he really wanted to talk about. I didn't push him though because I knew he would come to terms with it eventually.

"I miss him Clove. This is the longest I haven't had any sort of contact with him. I dream about him. It feels like I am going through two withdrawals. It hurts," he whispered and I heard the way he slid down to sit on the floor. His voice trembled every time he said 'him' and I was certain he couldn't pronounce his name without tears. I gulped to hold back mine.

"I'm sorry, Cato. Stay strong, love. Stay focused so you can come back to us soon; we're lost without you," I murmured encouragingly, the knot in my throat tightening at the way the phone clattered on the ground before he could pick it up again. I bit my lip to withhold a sob at his self-deprecating chuckle.

"Sorry. The vaccines they give me make me a little fidgety. I'll come back soon. I'm making progress…I think. Has he called you? Is he safe?" He stated excitedly, immediately changing back to the painful topic I was trying hard to avoid. I didn't want this to inhibit his progress.

"We don't know, Nik. Finnick came by to swiftly pack some more of his stuff. He didn't acknowledge any of us; he fought with Haymitch. He is home, back in Moscow. He's with his parents," I supplied and he hummed in understanding and I prepared myself for the next question, biting my lip.

"He doesn't like his parents," Cato pondered out loud, hesitating a little to gather his train of thoughts before continuing, "I want to hear his voice. I only have one call per day. Do you think maybe Glim could help?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Cay. They are completely isolating him from us," I muttered and he gasped a little but that was all the indication I got that told me he was hurt by the information. I didn't tell him yet that they were thinking of never allowing him to come back, that his mother had thrown a fit when she saw his state. I didn't tell him that he had called, begging for me to find a way to connect him to the blonde. I couldn't.

"Right, right, okay yeah. I—I just…I'm having a bad day. I haven't talked to my therapist yet and I keep itching all over—fucking kills. You think you could—maybe a picture or one of his shirts. I'm fucking alone, Clove. I don't know how to cope," he pleaded with me, his voice sounding so weak that I couldn't deny him some hope.

"Glimmer says he talks about you. He still loves you. You should be strong for him," I mumbled, a few tears running down my face at the way his breathing sped up. I could tell he was crying though he must have bit his lip to death to hold back. I knew I shouldn't have mentioned anything but I just hoped this helped more than it hurt.

"If I ask you something, will you answer honestly?" he rasped out in between his breath hitching. I swallowed the pain.

"I can't promise you that," I answered back hesitantly because I knew what he wanted to know.

"Katia please sister, everyone is keeping things from me. It's driving me insane, please," he begged insistently, no longer keeping his sniffling inside. I gave in because I missed him, because I felt helpless, pretending everything was okay every day at school.

"Alright, honey," I murmured, gently and he took a deep breath while I held mine in.

"How bad did I hurt him that day?" he whispered raggedly and my body went rigid.

"Pretty bad, sweetheart. But you weren't yourself—you lost control. You're getting help now," I started to excuse him because though I knew he had fucked up badly that day, how would saying that help him recover?

"How bad, Clove? What did Finnick see?" he screamed in frustration, growling before apologizing slightly. I flinched against the wall, my nails digging into my skin like knives.

"You broke two of his ribs and fractured another one, his jaw and his right arm," I girt through my teeth, convulsing in pain as he cursed, sobbing out loud. My heart ached and the room felt hot, the oxygen missing. My lip bled down my chin; one of my hands stained with blood while my other one tortured the phone in a deathly grasp.

"Marvel was cutting, Cato," I whispered between my sobs and he choked on his breath before the line went down.

I threw the phone against the wall, collapsing in tears.


	12. Johnny on the Spot

**Chapter 10: Johnny on the Spot**

_Peeta's POV (Wednesday)_

Seeing the tears roll down his face, his eyes drowned in anger, managed to stop mine because now I felt foolish. How could I be standing here crying because I stupidly decided to cheat on Marvel because I stupidly couldn't decide which one I wanted more when he was crying about how much he fucking adored this kid? I felt like my tears had transformed into crocodile ones as his fresh, physical representation of pain had escaped his barrier. I hiccupped, staring at him in sadness because I felt like I needed to fix what I had broken.

He caught himself, interpreting the sympathy in my eyes accurately. His hand moved to his face and he cursed under his breath when he felt the wetness against his fingers. I was surprised to note he didn't even know he had cried. He must have been so caught up in his frustration and anger. Those were usually the tears that you couldn't control. Not tears of sadness, tears of fury. He swiftly wiped his face on the back of his hand, sighing heavily, and before I could stop myself, I felt my lips move to comfort him.

"It's not fair. You're not even an ugly crier. Do you have _any_ flaws?" I blurted out, blushing heavily at my corny comment. How did that sound good in my mind? I was about to apologize then saw my mouth shut permanently when I heard him snort, chucking in that half-laugh, half-sob way that I was too familiar with. I smiled at him faintly, offering peace.

"Mention this to anyone and you're dead," He mumbled under his breath, having composed himself, a lazy smile on his face, his eyes shining brightly, washed clean by his tears. He seemed to have dropped back to his state of rest, the extra energy escaping with his release. I was envious at how fast he could pick himself up again. I wish I were as strong as he.

"Aww, I'm scared now," I teased mockingly because I had gotten some confidence from his previous positive reaction. He smirked at me, inching forward a little so he was towering me again and I couldn't help but note that I had brought this on myself. Both of my last comments had flirtatious undertones and whether I wanted to admit it or not, I was attracted—just a tiny bit—to the way his biceps flexed on either side of my petite frame to trap me next to his powerful chest. I was losing my grip on reality fast and the only thing to hold on to was Cato. Sexy, blonde, badass Cato who dated the guy I wanted to fuck. Too messy for someone as inexperienced as me.

Move away and accept that you can't handle it.

"….but I can. I can do whatever I want," the demented side of my brain whispered in rebellion and I was so shocked at it sudden appearance that I lost grip for a second. That seemed to be all it took.

"What are you going to do, kiss me again?" I couldn't even recognize my own husky voice as I whispered the provocation against his smirking lips. This wasn't me; I would have never said that. I wasn't a slut and I regretted cheating. I honestly did but somehow the words had just fallen from my lips because my mind was acting on its own. It thought it was protecting itself, seeking love because it never had love. Never. I would always be a sucker for love and attention.

"I could do that," I heard Cato murmur out loud in a soft tone, touching my lips so lightly that if I hadn't felt the feathery tickling sensation, I would have thought he hadn't even made a move. My eyes flickered shut, my lusty mind screaming in victory while the rest of my identity cried in denial.

Stop.

"Or I could just kill you," Cato whispered, completely moving away and placing two fingers against my temple in that universal gun hand-motion. I looked up at him in surprise while he just smirked at me one last time with his teasing blue-eyes, strolling towards the door easily. He didn't have any attachements yet but I, the idiot who had decided to walk closer to the edge and look down, had started to develop some.

The cool air wrapped against my sweaty frame, sending chills down my spine. I could breathe again because he wasn't taking away the oxygen and my mind calmed down from its active state. I was in control. I was guilty.

"You're cute but I already love one Marvel; my black heart can't handle two," he murmured, shrugging, the smile still on his face and amusement leaking into his eyes. I stiffened at his words, scowling because he thought he had me figured out. Cato, honey, if I needed love I would be long dead by now. I can survive on my own. I never had love in the first place.

"I don't need your love," I muttered and he shook his head, sighing. My frown deepened.

"You need everybody's love and I have a feeling not having Marvel's will break you."

The door slammed shut and I stood there burning in fury. He didn't know the meaning of breaking. I had shattered before, crumbling in devastation before being reborn from the ashes like a phoenix, every time harder to surprise. Would I suffer? Yes. But I could grit my teeth through the pain like I always had. I might not remember much of my childhood, but the instincts of survival were still there.

I think they all underestimated me. I think they all had entered the pool on the shallow side, completely unaware of the drop. I hoped they didn't know how to swim.

* * *

I found my way to Glimmer easily in the cafeteria this time because she always sat on the furthest left table next to big windows that oversaw the main quad. I assumed the positioning was because she had figured out that people preferred the closer tables and that one would usually be isolated. I had yet to ask her why she didn't like to chat with friends over lunch; I had yet to see her with any friends.

When I approached the table with my awkward smile, she smiled at me faintly, pulling the chair out as invitation, and I gladly accepted it with a smile of my own. I liked routines. There were very few people around and when I asked Glimmer, she told me it was because my class had been let out early; the actual lunch period hadn't started yet. I took advantage of that to finally get a hot meal because the line was short. My stomach growled in happiness upon the sight of the steaming mash potatoes covered in the tasty gravy. I had survived on breakfast and dinner for the past few days. I wouldn't have eaten dinner either if it weren't for the fact that it was required for everyone to sit down at the same time. They called it sit-down dinners and they happened three times a week.

We both initially ate in comfortable silence because I soon deduced that she liked the quiet, hence she usually ate on her own. This time she had brought a pile of books, sitting next to her on the table and a newspaper that I soon deduced was the school's one as the headline said "E.L. Measure".

Unlike most of the mafia kids, Glimmer took care of the way she dressed. Maybe this was the gay side of me making an appearance but I thought she looked like she could walk down the runway in any of her outfits; her hair was as always long and gorgeous. Today she was wearing a structured navy dress that accentuated her long legs and nice shoulders.

I was surprised to note she didn't have as many fans drooling over her as Marvel. She deserved them but her personality did not want them or the popularity. I admit, I didn't understand. I had never been popular and now I wanted that to change. I saw it could change because these kids had seen some potential in me; they had thought me special; Marvel had thought me special.

At my old school, I had no expectations so I had settled comfortably in the middle of the hierarchy where the 'general mass' ambled around unrecognized and unimportant. Here they had given me a glimmer of hope and that emotion was the most dangerous one for humans because now I had started fighting to climb up the ladder. I think I was speeding up it fast, always unprepared for what the next step had to offer. Whenever I looked down, I got dizzy yet looking up at the podium where the kings were standing always made me inch forward in determination. Ever since Cato had admitted to Marvel liking me more than the rest, I couldn't stop thinking about him. It made me excited about our future interactions because that information had given me confidence.

Speak of the devil, he entered the cafeteria with his usual confidence, smile on his face. I felt idiotic staring at him in awe; I felt like I constantly fangirl-ed over him like every other female who craned her neck and waved at him excitedly. Every time he moved, I was reminded of that slow motion, sexy background music situation that you saw in movies. It made me blush especially thinking of what had transpired today morning, reminding myself of where exactly those lips had been.

He was wearing a black, V-neck sweater whose sleeves he had raised probably because of the unexpected heat in the end of September. He liked dark colors and they worked wonders to accentuate his eyes and his flawless skin. He looked slim and toned. I had seen under that shirt. It hid more than it displayed; he wasn't one to flaunt his physique. I didn't think he deemed that important. I noticed that his hair had started to change back to his natural dirty blonde, the black washing off to leave traces of a darker color. He looked around once, giving out his usual smiles to people who acknowledged him before he headed for our table.

I snapped my eyes down, trying to hold back the smile that was threatening to invade my face. Glimmer remained nonchalant, not having even noticed his presence, her eyes on the school newspaper as she continued to chew through her salad. I noticed that the long, jock table was not attracting Marvel's attention though there were a couple of boys sitting there, chatting boisterously; Cato was nowhere to be seen. It was clearly my time to shine.

"Hey Peeta. Sister," he greeted both of us with his usual grin, settling on my other side, placing me in between both twins. I felt like the ugly duckling now. Glimmer looked up to nod and smile lightly in his direction. I didn't expect them to be on good terms but it seemed like he wasn't seeking confrontation when it came to their relationship. He only got aggressive when he felt threatened. I could see that the person that scared him the most was his sister, though I had seen how violent Cato could get with him. He trusted Cato, something that he did not feel comfortable doing with Glimmer. They had some sort of past. I couldn't imagine how kind and sweet Glimmer could hurt him though; I couldn't think of a scenario where she was more abusive than he.

"Do you have a game today?" Glimmer asked in her smooth voice, not bothering to look up from the paper and my eyes flickered towards his green once as he nodded. He did not have a plate in front of him. Instead he was holding a sandwich, that I had found out they called 'Panini', and a bottle of some sort of juice. It looked like Redbull and it smelled like it too. It looked a disgusting yellow in the transparent bottle. Why wouldn't he just bring the can?

"Yup, every Wednesday and Saturday. How are you doing with soccer?" he asked me in the middle of chewing through his sandwich and I stuttered, flushing, because I had yet to find out where I had to go to try out. Had practice started already? Was I behind? I really wanted to be part of this sport. I finally had the chance to play in a place that actually cared enough about it to buy some decent goal posts and hold legit practice. I could be good; I could have my chance at the spotlight and then Marvel would be cheering _me_ on. I couldn't deny myself that.

He raised his eye-brows when he saw I wasn't replying and I lowered my eyes to avoid questioning, sliding them down his perky, small nose to his big upper lip, stopping momentarily at the cute black dot just above the right side of his mouth, down his long neck contrasting against the dark sweater to his fingers wrapped around the sandwich.

I noticed in fascination that the skin of his wrists was striking, the skin color changing slightly to a paler white. It was painted with small linear marks that zigzagged like a modern painting, intersecting and diverging. If I hadn't known better, I would have guessed those were scars running almost up to his elbow. If I could guess, I would say car accident. Maybe he punched a window or a mirror? That was a Cato move though. He didn't seem like the type to participate in 'jackass' activities. I didn't have time to dwell on it much because he was calling for my attention and my eyes skidded back to his scrunched up face.

"Are you feeling well? Peeta? You space out a lot," he commented once he saw I was back and I chuckled nervously, feeling my face heat up. Glimmer looked up momentarily to shake her head in amusement before she went back to her reading. I sucked at playing this cool but I blamed the audience. I was usually better at using my tongue—fuck you imagery—when we were alone. That's what she said, yes. Now, I was flushing more. I could feel my brow starting to sweat; I pushed my blonde bangs I pushed them down again because I looked like an idiot when I displayed my big forehead. I sighed.

"I—ugh—have no idea where to go for soccer," I admitted, smiling in self-deprecation and his eyes widened, he seemed to momentarily choke on his food before he chewed it up and turned around on his chair to scream at another boy. I murmured a 'huh' while Glimmer whispered 'don't invite him' under her breath. I turned towards her to see her sigh, slumping her shoulders while Marvel was screaming behind us.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry," he apologized to me swiftly before looking away towards the new group of boys, crowding the long table, holding full plates, "Yo Nick A., come over here for a second?"

I assumed, from the way one of them snapped his head in our direction, that he was talking to a tall boy, with jet-black spiky hair and grayish eyes, mouthing a lollipop between his lips. He had been about to put his plate down when he spotted Marvel, leaning his head on the back of his chair, smiling slyly. He changed his direction with a smirk, leaving all the other boys scrambling lost without their leader and he settled on the opposite side of Marvel and me on our table, releasing his plate with a screech and removing the pink lollipop long enough to speak. It looked like the only reason he had the damned thing in his mouth was because he was used to holding something between his think lips. Cigarette addict, I was certain. I had seen my mom.

Now that he was closer I could see the small details that gave him that dark aura, like the light eyeliner under his eyes and the dragon tattoo on his right arm where the hoodie was sliding off his shoulder carelessly to reveal his off-white wife beater. Was he old enough to legally get a tattoo? Overall, he seemed like the typical rebel druggie and though I tried not to be judgmental, it was hard to not label him with the way his bruised knees where showing through the rips in his grey jeans.

"Peeta, this is Nick Andal, the soccer captain this year. Nick, this is your new star recruit," Marvel introduced us and I saw the way Nick looked at me in scrutiny, glaring unimpressed for a second before he reached over to offer me his hand. I took it, smiling faintly when he grinned at me in approval. Maybe he wasn't that bad. That was my immediate opinion when I found myself labeled as one of the groupies. Had I been on the outside of the clique, I would be mentally shitting on them because let's face it, it was human nature and I got envious quickly.

"Hey, man. Nice to meet you. Are you coming to practice today?" he asked, setting his lollipop aside so he could start eating and I nodded gingerly, looking at Marvel for help once more. I hated how as soon as I got used to the environment, a new factor was added to throw me off my game again.

"He doesn't know how to get there, dickhead," Marvel blurted and I saw Nick roll his eyes before turning towards me, his silver irises staring in interest between the two of us. It was as if he could read my emotions and somehow I was giving him all the information he needed. He was scary.

"Right. We usually practice in the field behind the main gym, umm, where the hockey rink is? Wanna go out for a smoke after this or do you have a game today, Marv?" he switched the topic quickly and I was starting to think he was very unhelpful with the way he bounced back and forth. I had guessed right on the cigarettes and I looked at Marvel in fascination, awaiting his take on the filthy habit. I could see Nick cared more about Marvel than me and Glim put together. That wasn't really surprising. He hadn't even looked towards Glim once and the girl had stared at him in annoyance once he had noisily made his presence known.

"Game, away too so can't. I'm dying for one though. Mind showing him around?" Marvel asked, without even considering that I didn't want to walk with this guy anywhere.

I felt like he would lead me down an abandoned alley and mug me, kill me, rape me perhaps. I wouldn't pick him for someone who played soccer. If I would have guessed a sport, I might have said skating. Was that stereotypical? Had he threatened all the other boys to vote him as captain? Was I being harsh because I felt like his mere presence intimidated me back into my shy boy persona? I thought I was making progress and I didn't want this wild card thrown in. He definitely was a wild card when it came to everything. His smile was so always there and so fucking strange. I might have been getting jealous because Marvel and him had fallen into easy conversation that was too deep for me to penetrate; I didn't understand shit and I felt like the fucker had taken my chance to shine.

"I'll come pick you up at your dorm around two?" he asked me all of a sudden, in the middle of his conversation and I nodded reluctantly, shrugging and frowning at the way he automatically assumed I would be hiding in the dorm until then. He also knew I was in Capitol. These kids really shared everything with each other and it was frustrating. I wondered if Marvel had spilled the beans on my attachment to Gale. I hoped not because it would be received as a weakness. I couldn't have that on a team with this bully as the captain. From what I had heard him mention, he was the dorm monitor of District 1. He had a lot of leadership positions, which meant he had a lot of power.

"Are we going to Boston tomorrow to stock up for Rub-Cube? Clo-ho said what you guys brought Monday was the last of the supply," Nick proceeded to ask and I mentally groaned, physically placing my head in one of my hands.

He was going to be there. I had forgotten for a second I had told Cato I would show up. I had purposely forgotten because thinking about it would make me more nervous. I wasn't one for social outings. This was way out of my comfort zone and I hoped that having Cato and Marvel there would be enough. I realized then that though I trusted Marvel, I felt much safer around Cato. Marvel had that air about him that made you think if you passed out at a party, he would merely turn you on your side and whisper 'sleep well' while he went crazy the rest of the night. His attention was so needed that it had been trained to never be on one person for too long.

"Sure. Cato has a match so I guess I'll drive. You have your car?" Marvel asked and I could see he was hesitant about the idea. I had heard cars were not allowed on campus when you were a boarder but something told me they were an exception to that rule, like they were the exception to many other rules.

Nick made a face at the question, "The Smart? Yeah, off-campus but that only takes one other person. Is this me and you thing? How subtle of you, baby."

I saw Nick smirk while Marvel chuckled, rolling his eyes at the very blatant flirting. I frowned wanting to kick Marvel under the table until his smile fell of his face. I could tell that he wasn't serious though. It wasn't like the relationship between the Russians. This was different, gritty and spontaneous.

"Clove's coming—" Marvel added and before I could stop myself, I had blurted out 'I'll come'. They both turned towards me, Nick in mocking disbelief and Marvel in surprise. I held my ground though inside I was panicking in fear at my stupid move. I let myself wide open for rejection that was sure to come. This is why I didn't like making moves but hell would freeze before I would let Marvel go with Nick and Clove. I had to step up if I wanted to show him I was serious.

"Cool," Marvel murmured smiling at me, saving me from humiliation, while Nick gaped a little in shock before he could control himself. He stuttered until Marvel's glare stopped him, at which point he turned towards me with a wide smirk, wanting to scare me away and succeeding enough to push me back in my seat. Fuck you, asshole.

"Glim?" Marvel asked and his sister looked up in surprise, shaking her head slightly, disappointing me. It would have been better if I had some support. I pouted in her direction, hoping that I could persuade her to come for me. I was getting too dependent on her warmth.

"It's just us four then. Sonny hates your driving and E hates you in general," Nick muttered teasingly while Marvel pointed his tongue out immaturely, "What's wrong with your car?"

"The Gran Turismo? That's just telling people to mug us especially in those shady places that actually accept your fakes," Marvel explained patiently, sounding as if he expected even an idiot to know his train of thought. I paled at the thought of all these illegal activities. Fakes? Shady places? Fuck. Why did I have to sign myself up for this? Who was I kidding with this fake bravado? I would pee my pants and Clove would giggle that stupid, annoying giggle.

Not to mention the car that I was trying hard to convince myself wasn't the Maserati Gran Turismo. That was a dream car of every human being with a penis, a badass piece of machinery that cost more than the average person's entire annual salary. Shit. I wanted to see it so badly.

"You keep a Beretta in your glove compartment. I don't think anybody is gonna mug us, Marv," Nick muttered in amusement, giving Marvel a knowing look while the other boy flushed. I turned around in astonishment to see if what Nick was saying was truth. He had a gun in his car? Was that normal?

"That is beyond the point. I don't want those bastard children that play outside to key my car. They broke my fucking mirror last time—stop laughing assholes," Marvel explained, scrunching his brows in an annoyed expression while both Nick and Glimmer chuckled. I was surprised to note the easy smile on her face.

"Remember how mad he was that day, Glimmer?" Nick added in amusement while Glim nodded then he turned towards me and I found it surprising that he was including me in the conversation, "He was chasing this little child for a good ten minutes, screaming like a psycho."

"Okay, let's not get too excited here. It was more like 'what happened here? Oh my mirror is broken? This sucks,'" Marvel imitated on what I thought was a calm tone. I was smiling at their back and forth, laughing out loud when I saw the expressions on Nick and Glim's faces. I can imagine it wasn't like that at all and my brain was supplying funny images of Marvel throwing a tantrum, pointing at his mirror and clutching his hair in speechless horror.

"Yeah, no. That's not what happened," Nick snapped, shaking his head.

"It was you screaming in the car, struggling hilariously to get out of your seatbelt and smashing your hand on the horn repeatedly. I thought you burst a blood vessel that day," Glimmer added and Nick chuckled in agreement while Marvel blushed, rolling his eyes in acceptance.

"You would be correct to describe me as _slightly_ angry," Marvel mumbled and before the other two could disagree again, I heard Clove's high-pitched voice behind me, sending a shiver up my back. The smile fell off my face, my stomach dropped along with my eyes.

"Angry about what?" she asked, entering the conversation, settling on the other side of Marvel with her plate of food, "Missed me everyone?"

I saw Glim glance at her apathetically and I could only imagine how much she hated me for attracting all these people to her table. Nick waved, going back to his food after it being forgotten during that debate. Marvel looked at her, smiling a little, and that's when I decided I wanted to ignore her because when I had smiled last time, she had scowled.

"We were talking about Boston tomorrow. You're still up for it, yes? Peeta's coming," Marvel caught her up in the conversation and I raised my head last minute to see her send a glare my way. I smirked, challenging her, which I would soon find out was a mistake. Never go after Clove weaponless.

"Oh," she merely said at first, making her disapproval clear before trying to claim her territory again, "Shotgun!"

"I don't think so. Females in the back," I heard Nick mutter, raising his eyebrows in explanation and they went into an argument, bantering back and forth over who deserved the privilege. I turned towards Marvel pouting and he rolled his eyes, motioning at them before he smiled, leaning in to whisper in my ear:

"Don't worry. I'll make sure you get to sit in the front. You're the one I _really_ want by my side."

I blushed as his lips brushed against my cheek and my eyes caught Clove's across the table as she stared at our interaction subtly, trying to pretend she didn't notice. I smiled confidently, turning towards him with a smirk. Now that we were facing each other, our noses almost brushed and I was yearning to touch his lips even for a second, to claim him in front of the two others. His eyes were twinkling in amusement and he wasn't pulling away so I licked my lips, leaning in slightly only to be interrupted by Clove who pulled Marvel away from me by his sleeve. I pouted in disappointment and I heard him groan jokingly before turning around to face her. I wanted to snarl in her direction but I was too caught up in the way that Nick was staring at me in curiosity to care. He was definitely up to something.

"So are we back to fooling around with each other, baby?" I heard Clove murmur in a husky voice, her hand lightly touching the one Marvel had placed on the table, her fingers drawing patterns on his soft skin. I had tried to tone out their conversation but that sentence brought me back full speed and now I was sitting there, confused and hurt about how he jumped from side to side so fast. The table went silent; even Glimmer looked up in interest.

I tensed, biting my lip to stop the growl that was building up in my throat. Bitch! I stared at her in annoyance but she merely sent a smirk back so I submitted against my will, looking at the table in frustration. I wanted to fight back, move closer to him, but something in her stare told me to stay down because she didn't play fair; she played dirty and I didn't know if I was ready to mud-wrestle her for my boyfriend—fuck! Stupid brain. My fuckbuddy. My crush. The abuser of my soul.

I heard Marvel sigh gravely, and I glanced side-ways from the corner of my eye to see him move away from her touch and stare at her in exasperation. I smiled a little faintly, my leg moving slightly to brush against his. I knew it wasn't much but I was rewarded with a quick glance back of his emerald green eyes and that was enough to make me feel bold. Back off, Clove.

"Clove, please. We've been through this before…several times," Marvel muttered, rolling his eyes and I heard Glimmer fidget in her seat, clearing her throat and opening her mouth slightly to start a conversation. She had a nervous look in her eyes and I could see they were shuffling between Marvel and Clove. She seemed paranoid and sitting next to her was making me feel itchy too. My gut was tingling and that was never a good sign. Clove was way too happy even after getting so openly rejected. It was as if she had been expecting it. A trap perhaps, like the whole phone situation? She was a snake.

Nick on the other hand let a little grin escape his indifferent front at Marvel's blunt reaction, his eyes still remaining on the plate in front of him. He looked intimidating even when he was in his own little world and I was dreading the time I would have to try out for the team, have him tell me I wasn't good enough. He would rape me anally and I wouldn't like it though he had that sexy, bad boy aura going for him.

"Oh pardon me for being so forward. I thought exclusivity wasn't one-sided," Clove murmured in a polite tone under her breath, moving away from Marvel, and I heard Glimmer gasp ever so silently under her breath while I froze on the spot. What. Had she just said?

My heart was thumping against my chest and I hurried to look around the table in fear, to see if they had heard. I stared at Marvel's confused face and Nick's vicious smirk. I panicked at the prospect of having this conversation here. This couldn't be happening. I wasn't about to be called out for my disloyalty in the middle of the school cafeteria with my crush sitting next to me. This was social suicide, actually homicide because Clove was murdering me.

Marvel shifted uncomfortably in his seat so he moved further from me and closer to Clove and though he still seemed unaware, I felt the pain in my chest because I was losing everything I had gained. My hand moved instinctively to grasp the end of his sweater and he turned around to look at me, cocking his head and giving me that look that said 'tell me you haven't fucked up'. But I had and I desperately wanted to hide because I was a little bitch. I stared at him blankly with my blue eyes and he realized I wasn't about to give him an answer so he gulped, looking back at Clove but letting me hold on for a little longer.

"What do you mean?" Marvel asked under his breath, his tone turning darker and I think Clove's sly smile and Nick's jabbing expression weren't helping his case. They were both teaming up to make this experience more dramatic. I thought they were shitty friends and I would say Glimmer agreed by the way she was shaking her head in disgust. She pushed her seat back, grabbing all our attentions while she glared at Clove with as much anger as I had seen that first time I saw her fight with her twin. Her brows were furrowed and her lips pursed, her green eyes on fire. I couldn't bear to see those same furious eyes on Marvel this time turned towards me. If I could disappear…

"Clove!" she stated sternly, holding her front while the smaller girl rolled her eyes in mocking. I knew Glimmer had that authority in her but I doubted anybody could make Clove do anything because she was a firecracker and most of the time she exploded in your hand. I hated her guts.

"Hush, Glimmer," she snapped back dismissively with an evil smile, causing me to glare at her for her disrespect before her brown eyes scanned my face with victorious glee as she opened her mouth again, "Peeta kissed Cato."

Silence.

Fuck. You.

My breath came in short and shallow; my eyes flailing around panicked at all the other faces turning towards me.

Play it off. Play it cool. Say no. Lie because that's how low you have sunk these days; that is what you fucking have to do to get friends, you pathetic scum. Open your mouth and say no. Her word against yours. C'mon, you fucking failure, just stay calm. Fight for him.

Glimmer was looking at me in pity because she had given up trying to intimidate ruthless Clove. Somehow we had a connection now though I wasn't certain why she would choose me. I was plain, nothing special. I felt her hand sneak under the table to lightly settle on my knee but all I wanted was to go away and hide because I wasn't very good at dealing with the consequences of my actions. I was a coward and I deserved this. I deserved to be dragged out in the open and be humiliated with tar and feathers. At the same time, the very essence of every human being fought to survive. So though I knew I was wrong, I had to fight to endure.

Marvel was staring at me with the most broken expression I had seen him wear and I hated myself at the moment, despised my fucking brain, because I had betrayed him after he had done so much for me. I had asked for exclusivity when he had given it to no one and then thrown it back in his face. How could I?

A sadistic part of my brain laughed at his predicament because he had done this to so many others and that first day I had wished to hurt him but the other parts were working fast to suffocate the evil trace. I never wanted for this to happen. I never wanted for his green eyes to fill with sadness as he searched mine for an explanation. He was lost as if he couldn't understand why I would do it, which made me believe he was completely oblivious at times. One of his hands subconsciously moved to rest on his forearm and I flinched my eyes away because I couldn't deal with that guilt right now.

Fight. For. Him.

"Liar," I whispered under my breath, my eyes a mixture of desperation and anger as I stared at Clove, silently pleading for her to stop. I thought she had gotten what she wanted. She had won. Couldn't she see I was willing to do anything to have her shut up? She wasn't hurting only me; she was hurting Marvel and he didn't deserve this.

I bit my lip to stop from mouthing 'please' because I knew that was a sign of weakness. She fed on weakness. She merely glanced back at me in pity, her smile never leaving her face and because I hesitated in my reply, Marvel was now looking at the table, pouting in anger. I could see his hands were shaking in his lap and I could see he was sulking, brewing a solution in his brain.

"Am I now? At least own up to your mistakes," Clove muttered spitefully, making me feel worse about my life, and I lowered my glaring eyes in hatred, biting my lip to stop myself from whining because that's what I had thought worked out during my entire childhood. I knew nobody would humor my tears here. I had overused that too many times.

They all thought I was a crybaby, a weakling. They didn't know that for some babies, the ability to cry for hours was the only thing that got them food. They didn't know how if felt to be left alone, scared and hungry, crying your throat raw for this unfairness to end. There were defense mechanisms that created themselves for the sole purpose of survival. Mine was my tears because they were the only thing I had found until now, since the day my prison was the cradle to the day that it grew to be the closet, was fool-proof. I hated doing it but it was conditioned; something I never forgot. These days it made people think I was weak; back then it only made me strong.

I thought the worst part was over and now I just had to deal with the awkward silence and the aura of disappointment, leaking from Marvel's scrunched up features. But Clove was relentless, gloating in vengeance and no one could stop her. Where was Cato? He needed to be here to protect us all from this crazy psycho bitch.

"In your very room too," Clove murmured innocently, shrugging her shoulders and pretending to go back to her food as if nothing had happened, as if she had just made an obvious remark about the weather. Glimmer stiffened beside me, burning in rage while Marvel snapped his head up to face her in shock. I could see what was flashing rapidly through his brain like a danger sign: "on my bed?" I felt disgusted at myself.

"What?" He yelled and I flinched at his tone, his voice husky in rage. He looked at me and I couldn't even look back because it was true. It was so true and I was so sorry.

Please Marvel. Please understand.

He took my reluctance to disagree as the truth and I knew by the way his eyes went cold and distant that we had crossed a bridge. It wasn't the same now. I had never seen him give Glimmer that expression because she was his sister no matter what. He wouldn't want to burn that bridge completely; I didn't think that was possible. But I? I was replaceable. He had thousands.

"Yet he chose you. He let you sleep on his bed," my brain supplied in pondering and I didn't know whether to feel happy or sad at that epiphany.

On the other side of the table, Nick burst into a fit of laughter, hesitating slightly when Glimmer gave him a deathly stare combined with a slight slap on his upper arm. I looked at him, blinking in disbelief as he hid his amusement under his hand and looked down again, unable to stop his snorting. Was he serious? Was he attempting to replace Sonny as comic relief? I would soon find out that Sonny and him were very different because while the hyper Japanese kid meant well, Nick was actually pretty mean.

I felt Marvel move before the entire table skid on the floor towards the other boy's side, making a screeching sound against the tiles and throwing the things on top in disarray. Glimmer whispered Marvel's name sternly; Clove pretended nothing happened as she picked up Marvel's fallen water bottle and proceeded to drink from it, making weird slurping noises, her eyes wavering between the two boys in interest. I saw Nick stop as he flinched back when his glass of juice spilled its contents on the table, causing them to drip on his pants. Clove giggled now as Nick cursed under his breath, standing up to dry his crotch area with paper towels.

"Nick!" Marvel warned in a cold tone, glaring at him, upset and lethal while the other boy shook the droplets off his pants without getting testy about it, sat himself down and looked at the other boy, raising his hands in a sign of peace. He was still amused and treading on dangerous grounds. If I had not known better, I would have thought he was masochistic. He liked seeing Marvel like this, bristled and barking. I had cringed back on my chair at the confrontation.

"I'm sorry, man. You gotta admit the irony makes it funny—" Nick blurted, his tone light and his eyes twinkling in glee until Marvel slammed his hand on the table so hard it made a ringing noise. I heard the entire cafeteria go quiet and I whimpered slightly, looking at Glimmer in fear. She didn't seem fazed; she had seen this before. Nick shut his mouth immediately, staring at the other boy, caught off guard while Clove was leaning back, enjoying the show, the smile still on her face. Happy, oh queen of chaos?

"Nick, leave," Marvel ordered, leaving no room for argument and if that had been directed towards me, I would have ran, sprinted out of here and hid under my covers until I heard Cato come back. Then I would have cuddled in his shirt, making my situation with Marvel even worst. What was wrong with me? Where was he? I heard the hushed whispers and the shuffling on all sides of us, while Nick stayed put in his seat, deciding to test his luck a little longer. Sprint, you fool.

"Marvel—" Glimmer started with a soothing tone but before she had a chance to express herself, Marvel interrupted rudely making me move closer to her as her head lowered in defeat. It wasn't her fault; it was mine. I had thought I would fix their relationship and here I was burning it to shit.

"Shut up, Glim," Marvel snapped before going back to his previous stand off and Nick smiled at little in sympathy, no malicious intent this time. Or if there were he was hiding it well behind the wall of 'I mean no harm; I care about you.'

"You had it coming, Marv. Don't pout, c'mon pretty boy," Nick stated in a light tone, shrugging a little and I felt Marvel stand up immediately, causing me to look at him in fear while he reached across the table for one of the glass cups, fumbling with it and holding it in his hand in a threatening gesture, towering us in the table with his authoritative position.

"Nick, you son of a bitch, three seconds before I nail you with this—" Marvel threatened, sending Clove into a fit of giggles. I looked at her in shock but I noticed that Marvel was smirking now that he had the psycho's support and they were feeding of each other's toxic personalities. She was further encouraging him and he was giving it to her, telling her, 'you want a show?'

"Marvel! Put that down. You are _not_ throwing a temper tantrum in the cafeteria." Glimmer suddenly stated under her breath, looking at him in scolding.

For a second, Marvel stared at her and understanding seemed to dawn on his pretty eyes but then it faded into darkness as he smashed the glass on the table, sending shards everywhere on the oval surface and sending Clove into a fit of laughter that was soon joined by Nick who was caught between shear joy and slight fear. Between their giggles and Marvel's proud face, Glimmer had no say. She stared at her brother in horror, which could compete with the one shown on my face. Temper tantrums you say?

"Ait, okay. Shit, man. Sorry. Good luck handling this, blondie. He'll rip your head off—," Nick let out after his breathy laughter and he moved away from the table, winking towards my flushed face while Marvel gave him a look that displayed the other boy had yet to be forgiven but they would still be driving off to Boston tomorrow.

As the other left, Marvel sat himself back down and only then did I realize that his hand was bleeding, drops landing on the table and staining the wooden surface. Clove moved the paper towels closer to him and he thanked her starting to clean his hands, hissing at the contact. I couldn't look anywhere but at the ruby red color, trickling down his skin; it was taking my breath away. By the way he stared at it in slight fascination, I knew this wasn't the first time he had seen it. He wasn't afraid. I wasn't afraid. This wasn't new.

I knew why when I saw for the first time one of the trickles wash his wrists with the red color. It covered the white scars with its shame and it made my eyes widen, my breath hitch. He had done this before. He wasn't scared of the pain. Those scars seemed familiar because no matter how much I was trying to deny it, shove the memory back into the closet of my mind, close those doors forever. No matter how hard I was screaming in denial, my back against those broken doors of my memories as they tried to open, throw me away, those were scars from cutting. He had self-harmed.

Those were exactly like the scars I used to have in my upper thigh, where I could hide them from my maniac of a mom so she didn't beat me for not being the only one to cause me pain and from my strict teacher who upon noticing would send me to a foster home for sure. I wouldn't be that forgotten kid, hiding in the rotten walls of the foster home, led by people who didn't give two fucks about their well-being. I had a home.

The canopies of my doors in the secret, dark attic of my mind were flung open, the hinges complaining as the wood slapped against the wall in the wind, the wind that was knocked out of me when I made the connection. I hated my past. I had no past. I had decided that a long ago, on the plane to my father's place, to the bastard who had left me for dead, to the fucker that wasn't ready to have a baby at nineteen so he ran away.

Nothing would ever faze me again. I would stare at conflict in the eyes and suppress every trace of memory that told me 'you have seen this before—this was you'. That little boy, holding a bloody teddy and staring at his mom slowly die away, that abused, neglected child with dirty plastered hair and bloodshot eyes, that wasn't me. He wasn't me. I was somebody else. I had no past.

I was simple! I was plain and boring and forgotten and invisible!

I wasn't an abuse victim. I didn't need special care. I didn't need adults to look at me in pity like my step mom had done when I first arrived to the porch of their big mansion, holding nothing but a ratty old backpack. I didn't need the therapists they made me talk to, those senile old men who told me to talk about things that never happened. Who did they think I was? I didn't remember any of those things. I wasn't beaten and I wasn't fucking molested. I just wanted them to leave me alone. I had money now and I had a new school and a place to sleep that didn't smell like alcohol and cigarettes. That's all I needed.

I was a different person and I could be reborn several other times. I was reborn now and Marvel wouldn't drag me back.

The doors close again along with my eyes as his fingers wiped the remaining of the substance away, scrunching it along with the tissue papers littering the table. His initial adrenaline had left and now he was staring off blankly again. He was looking at his hands, his face free of anger but full of dilemma. I wanted to talk to him when others weren't around.

I reached to slightly touch his hand and as my palm touched the thin skin of his wrists, feeling the change in texture that came with the scars under the rough pads of my fingertips, he gulped once before turning to look at me. We both had questions but we weren't sure if anybody had the answers. I opened my mouth to find my voice when I heard his and I flinched away, letting go of Marvel as Cato strolled towards us, smug and cheerful. He talked to a couple of people along the way while Clove smirked, staring at her phone, and Glimmer looked at Marvel in pleading.

"Control yourself, brother," she mumbled, reaching out to touch his hand while he moved his away as if burned, causing her to flinch at the unexpected movement. She grimaced in pain and I felt bad but I couldn't blame Marvel because he wasn't staring at her so he hadn't meant to hurt her.

Cato finally stepped towards our table and I looked at him, biting my lip in worry to warn him but he just smiled back, ruffling my hair, completely oblivious to how Marvel tensed up beside me. I could hear the insistent beeping of a time-bomb in the distance, close enough to take us down with it but far enough to make its destination impossible to pinpoint.

"All my favorite people in one spot. What's up?" Cato quipped, looking at all of us and Clove was the only one to smile back at him because she was a bitch who wanted to hurt people for fun. She was the devil.

Marvel was silent, never having acknowledged the other boy's presence, and Cato stared at him in worry before leaning over to plant a kiss on Marvel's head, gently touching his locks and looking at the bloodied tissue papers in concern. Then the situation changed with his mood, the tension rolling off Marvel's back and into the blonde's body.

"What happened? What did you guys do to him?" he questioned in panic, looking at all three of us and I loved how he automatically assumed it was our fault. His Marvel was an angel, never wrong, never to be wronged. I huffed a little annoyed though I knew I had no place to do it. Jealousy was a strange thing and now I had it twice as much because Marvel wasn't pushing away Cato away even though he was the reason for this predicament. Cato betrayed him; I was a victim!

"What did _you_ do?" Clove quipped teasingly, flapping her eyelashes innocently and I remembered I didn't have to say anything because Clove was proud of what she had done and she would get some credit for it.

Marvel flinched away now and I saw the hurt expression pass through Cato's eyes before he looked at Clove in confusion. It would hit soon, the understanding. It would hit hard because I didn't think he expected it from Clove. Why had he fucking told her in the first place?

I shifted in my seat while Marvel froze in his and before I had time to take a last full breath, I saw his eyes snap towards me in shock before going back to Clove.

Understanding achieved.

"Clove, I trusted you!" He whispered defeated and angry, his voice high pitched while Marvel finally stood up, pushing the chair back with a screech and staring at the blonde for the first time. I could feel the energy crackling between them. I could get in between but that might mean I got hit with that double barrel. It reminded me of that first Pokémon movie where Mew and Mewtwo deal that final blow that ends up turning Ash into stone. He got in the middle and his ass was stoned. Not to mention that I highly doubted anybody would cry for me so I would not be revived. Where was my Pikachu?

"I trusted _you_, you fucker. Why would you—you know what? Fuck it," Marvel struggled with his words, flushing in anger and embarrassment before he pushed the other away and made to leave unsuccessfully. The blonde had fast instincts, trained almost, and before the other could move a step away, he was snug against the other's chest, the bulging biceps against his rapidly thumping heart. I bit my lip against the sight. I was so desperate for attention it was pathetic.

The shorter didn't fidget to break away, like I had predicted, but he remained aloof and unresponsive. He was still looking down in anger but it was fascinating to note that the rest of his body was now on the defensive, no longer seeking to harm. The other's presence had made him submit to the alpha and he was no longer acting up. Their dynamic shifted from Marvel holding all the power to their decisions with his seductive eyes and his pouting lips to Cato controlling the situation with his confident attitude and his strong will. Where was I in that equation? I wouldn't fit in. I had nothing to offer.

Apparently though, I was the only one to think so because I heard what Cato was whispering against Marvel's temple, his blue eyes finding mine and urging me to stand up and come to him. I had made a pact after all. He was holding me to my promise and I wanted to smile in relief and cry tears of joy.

"Will you give us a chance to explain, Sashi? I think Peeta has something to tell you. Will you, sweetheart?" he was murmuring and I could see Marvel was unconvinced, wavering in indecision before his eyes looked up to me and now they were both staring at my stupid face.

Fight.

I shook my insecurities away, said fuck you to my self-deprecation and I smiled back at him against my guilt. I mouthed 'please' as he bit his lip and I saw Cato give me a nod as he kept Marvel in place. I think I needed somebody like Cato in my life to keep me from running away. I needed him as much as Marvel did but I was afraid that, like he said, I was too alike Marvel. I didn't think he could handle that again. I didn't think he was good at handling that the first time.

"Let me go, Cato. I have hockey," Marvel mumbled stubbornly under his breath, looking down and walking out of the cafeteria now that Cato released him. Even though they didn't seem like they reached an agreement, the blonde seemed to think that was a sign of peace. I saw Marvel leave the cafeteria without as much as a glance back, while Cato looked at me, motioning for me to get up and I followed suit because I couldn't stand to sit in that destructive table for a minute longer. He was walking towards the buffet area as he started to prepare his food while I stood there like an idiot, moving form side to side.

"We have to fix this now," he whispered, exasperated, to start the conversation and I was glad he was offering me a chance to speak. I had so many questions, so many insecurities that I thought I would drown on my own. He also admitted partial fault, which made me feel less alone in this battle. I didn't think it would be easy to get Marvel to look at me in amusement and warmth again.

"I don't know what to say," I whispered in a defeated tone to Cato who sighed at me, shrugging his broad shoulders. His hands were moving quickly to build the Panini and his eyes only glanced towards me at certain occasions. The people had started moving behind us, the noise increasing with every conversation. I felt self-conscious but he didn't seem to mind to talk about it here.

"Tell him the truth. Can you manage exclusivity? He's only upset because he feels like he took a step in the right direction and got burned for it," Cato explained and I bit the inside of my cheek, sending pain through my brain, to stop the disappointment. Here I had been wanting to be his boyfriend and when he had moved a miniscule step towards it, I had panicked, sent it all down the toilet. I hadn't meant it. I wanted him to myself but—

I looked sideways at the handsome blonde and I realized he would always be a temptation. It made it worst that I had agreed to being okay with standing aside and watching him cuddle my crush, kiss him lovingly and make him laugh. I had essentially agreed to his concept of sharing because I hadn't made a move to announce my territory, declare war. I didn't know if I could stand that but I wasn't about to fight Cato in any way. I didn't want to get hurt and I didn't want to hurt him more. He needed Marvel still.

"What happens if I cant?" I whispered, blushing and gulping, afraid to stare at his eyes for fear of judgment. I was weak for not being able to control my impulses but at least I would be truthful. I wanted his advice and I couldn't have it if he didn't know what was passing through his mind. After all he was the expert on Marvel.

"If you can't, he will probably move on with his life. Don't expect him to chase you; he's not used to that," Cato muttered, smiling sympathetically, when he saw me flinch at the idea of him moving on so easily. He was right and I had to swallow my pride, stop thinking I was on top of the world just because I had gotten this far, and start making a decision.

"What did he do when you cheated on him?" I asked gingerly, staring at him with innocent eyes. He looked at me in suspicion, frowning at my assumption before he realized how truly desperate I was for comfort and encouragement. I needed to know if this was ever going to be okay because right now my mind was screaming in denial. I couldn't have lost my shot this quickly. I wasn't even in the game yet. This was a joke.

He knew I knew about Glimmer and he was struggling between admitting and keeping it inside. He was angry at me at first and then I felt it die down to sadness. It wasn't fresh poignancy. It had happened a long time ago but there was something else there: fear. Fear of repetition, which made me think he slept with Glimmer twice. The second time was yet to be in the open.

"Where do I even start? He told me he hated me and that I was worst than Finnick. He broke a shitload of things. He made me feel like utter shit about myself. He ignored me completely for a week and he shed tears which I didn't think was physically possible in that human being," Cato explained bitterly, shrugging as if he was over it when we both knew even talking about it again had made him nervous and angry.

I watched him slap the rest of the ingredients in his sandwich angrily before he moved towards the Panini machines, looking back at me once and muttering,

"Good luck, lover-boy."


	13. A Game that Two Can Play

**Chapter 11: A Game that Two Can Play**

_Peeta's POV (Wednesday)_

I was running back to the dorm, my shirt sticking to my body uncomfortably from the sweat. The air felt nice against my heated skin, gently cooling it with its lathering. The sun had started to set and the sky was that warm orange. Nobody was in the quad so I felt peaceful. I should have considered jogging as a way to sweat away my stress.

Nick had shown me the team showers but I had decided to not participate in that kind of team bonding yet. I still had trouble coming to terms with the one in our dorm, let alone the over-populated, run down one used by the twenty boys in the team. The fact that Nick had been standing solely in his boxers, his overly inked skin stretching in front of my eyes, when he had suggested I stay had not helped the matter. He was buff, not just the lanky druggie I had first thought him as. He was talented too. When I saw him on the field I had to swallow my remarks and accept the fact that he was better than me. I bet it was the aspect that everyone underestimated him that made him such a good player.

I had thought the dragon tattoo was the only one he had but boy was I mistaken. He must have had around seven separate works done on his body, mostly littering his chest and rolling down his back. I didn't fail to notice the black rose on the left side of his rib cage and I restrained myself from rolling my eyes. I had thought they had managed to include one person in their group that wasn't affiliated with organized crime but I had been wrong yet again. On the other side of his rib cage, parallel to the rose was a tattoo of what looked like a two-headed eagle, intricate and detailed standing proudly on a mountaintop.

When I had asked him about the meaning behind his two chest pieces, pointing at them innocently and flapping my lashes, he had pursed his lips, analyzing me with his steely eyes. I knew he wasn't thrown off by my 'play dumb' look. He knew I wasn't stupid and he was certain I had figured it out. When I realized he wasn't about to warm up to me like the other Russians had, I shrugged, murmuring 'never mind' under my breath in a dejected tone, starting to walk away. I had been about to group him in with Clove as the mafia kids who were suspicious of others when he had started talking and I had to smile at myself then because I felt like he might have not trusted me fully yet but he knew I was safe enough. There was a sense of pride, accompanying the fact that I seemed to be the only normal person they talked to. It made me feel special.

He had told me in a casual tone how it represented both sides of his family. He was multi-ethnic, his father being Albanian and his mother Russian. He had left it at that ignoring the ties that both tattoos probably had to the mafia. I had replied without showing surprise, mentioning that the designs looked 'cool', ending the conversation and not pushing my luck too much. I wasn't quite sure of what Nick thought of me yet. I could see he appreciated me at the moment though because he looked back at the others once before giving me a one-sided smile.

Sometimes I believed he liked me; he had told me there was a ninety-nine percent chance I would make it to the team when we were drinking water mid-practice, sweaty and flushed. That had made me grin like a maniac for the rest of the day. Just the feel of running again, chasing the ball, the air against my face, hearing the blood rushing in my veins and smiling at the tingling sensation of the adrenaline cursing my body had awakened a hidden exhilaration in me. The excitement had only doubled when I heard his words of approval. He didn't seem like a person who complimented you much. I felt like maybe I could become his right hand man, his sous chef, his V.P.

Other times though, he would just ignore my existence, staring at me in that condescending way his gray eyes were so used to doing and making me feel more exposed then ever. He was very strange and I was fairly certain he had spontaneous mood swings. The other boys were obviously scared of him and I noticed I was the only new student to try out, no freshmen. I had wanted to start up a conversation with any of my teammates but they seemed too focused on their performance. Seeing as not all of us would make it, I knew they didn't want to form any alliances yet. Everyone was fighting everyone for a spot.

I was sprinting through the quad, looking at the way the red bricks of Capitol spread magnificently to display the building in front of me. I was surprised to note there was some relief at the sight of the dorm, a warm feeling of security. It was as if it was calling to me, telling me that after every long day I would always be welcome in there, hidden from the world as I cuddled in my soft bed. The smile had not left my face though I felt disgustingly dirty. Despite lunch, practice had set me in a good mood and I felt like I was ready to act, fix some things that had piled up in my to do list.

I would make a change today before the high I was riding on faded to leave me lost again.

I opened the door to my room, about to exclaim my return to Thresh, determined that we would have a talk after days of silent treatment. Every moment of silence weighed upon me like a pile of bricks and I couldn't stand his brooding self any longer. I needed to help him even if that meant getting a little burned. I expected him to be in his usual spot at the desk but when I looked over at the covered space it was abandoned.

"Knock, you fucker!" I heard Thresh roar in anger from inside and it sounded so furious that I froze at the door, my smile dropping as the sound of it closing shut interrupted the silence that had befallen once his shocked face took note of my presence. My eyes fell on his form and I gulped, pouting. I stood there, gaping and crestfallen, whispering under my breath, a slight trace of fear lingering in the air:

"It's just me."

I didn't expect our encounter to start like that and, scrambling to think of where I went wrong, I realized that it wasn't me this time. My eyes analyzed the room somberly, taking in the fact that the lights weren't turned off, the last rays of the sunset entering the room through the sides of the shut blinds. He never put the blinds down; they were always raised even on Sundays when the sun hit your sleepy face at six a.m. in the morning. He had told me he liked looking outside; the room made him feel claustrophobic. They were shut now though and it didn't take long to realize why.

He was sitting in the middle of the room, his back leaning on his bed, his butt nested in the multitude of his discarded laundry. His frame was still shaking from my interruption and now his eyes looked more trapped than ever. The strong, disinterested front had fallen from them, shattered in a million pieces, leaving the scared, vulnerable self open. I think he was compensating for the darkness he usually surrounded his identity with by physically creating that aura of secrecy.

In his right hand he was still holding the rubber band that I had assumed he had been trying to fasten on his arm, startling when I had opened the door. The needle had dropped in the midst of the clothes that sheltered its fall, gently keeping it together, the liquid slushing momentarily on the inside before halting to a stop. I could see the sharp tip, glinting in the sunlight and it made my breath catch.

My body had frozen midway through my journey and I couldn't decide which direction I wanted to go. Should I escape, try getting help from someone more experienced with this scenario? Should I get Cato because after all the two had some sort of bond?

I knew though that it was my turn to try because the panicked look on his face, the sheer desperation shining in his chocolate eyes, was familiar. It penetrated the thick walls of my mind, sending shivers down my spine and charging my body into action. I crossed the distance, dropping on my knees in front of him and staring at him in pleading. I sensed the way he tensed, trying to pull back into his shell but I knew he was too weak to fully cover himself.

Something had happened to break him and I wanted to help. I wanted to be there for him like he had been there for me in some twisted sort of way, helping me with his comforting silence. Cato and Marvel could not fix this situation because they were far too drowned in their own intricacies to think about other people. I do not think they grasped the gravity of the condition.

"Thresh, you need help," I murmured in sadness, my hand reaching out to touch him before settling back in my lap at the way he flinched away from me. His features hardened, his eyes turning black and I bit the inside of my cheek against the need to run away. I was scared because the last time I did this, I was slapped, beaten to a pulp and locked in my room without food. That was a long time ago, I kept repeating to myself but my body was acting up and I was trying to mentally battle my 'fight or flight' instinct.

"Why you are so right, blondie. Would you mind tying this for me?" he grunted under his breath, extending his right arm and I held tight to stop myself from flinching at the way his big frame invaded my territory. The rubber band was slapped in my hands and his eyes demanded my obedience. I gulped.

"No, Thresh, you don't have to do this," I whispered, setting the rubber band aside. I heard him growl under his breath, bristling, as I reached for the needle. I knew I should have been expecting a violent reaction. It was like taking food away from a stray dog, which had fought hard to earn that share. I thought I could make it though if I remained brave. Maybe he would be caught off guard long enough. I knew the first step in dealing with the addicts was removing the substances long enough for them to think clearly. Somehow, I felt unqualified for the job.

As soon as I made contact with the glassy, warm surface of the needle, wrapping my shaking, clumsy fingers around the base, his big hand wrapped around my wrist, holding it in a deathly grasp in front of my shocked expression. I gripped the injector in my palm, refusing to let go and now I could see the transparent deadly liquid in between our faces and I could see his murderous glare hazy through the substance. His fingers were bruising me but I refused to make any sort of sound. This needed to be done and I knew it would involve some sort of struggle. I just hoped I could keep my façade up for a little longer.

"Let it go," he threatened under his breath, his eyes two burning coals. The room had fallen into darkness with the disappearance of the sun and I knew it wouldn't be long before our visions were completely gone. I shook my head no, pulling back a little in an attempt to move away, the needle shook in my hand, but he reacted immediately, his other hand moving at lightning speed towards my face. This time I did flinch badly, squinting my eyes as he grasped my hair roughly, moving closer to me so I could practically feel his breath on my face. I could smell everything he had inhaled and I had to squirm, whimpering to let him know that he was hurting me. I had yet to open my eyes. I could feel a droplet of the liquid escape the top and fall on my hand, taking my breath away.

"Peeta, please, it's not safe. Give it to me," he muttered now in a softer tone, his voice frantic, and my blue eyes opened at the mention of my name. I saw the broken expression on his face and, without looking away from his sincere eyes, I gently pried my fingers away, allowing him to take it back and set it aside. I could see concern in his guarded eyes, concern for me.

"Why—why is it not safe?" I rasped out, dragging myself backwards so I could put some much needed distance between us. I saw him look at the discarded object longingly, sighing heavily. I liked that he was giving me some time to compose myself because I knew that he could see the fear running rampage in my eyes. I could sense my heart thumping in my ears and when I moved my fingers to slide the bangs away from my eyes, they were shaking erratically. I was not ready to face this again. My eyes fell down on the round droplet still staining my skin, sliding down slowly to leave behind a trail of destruction. My arm was covered in goose bumps.

Then he spoke with his gruff voice and my mind blanked out, my mouth fell open, my eyes breaking simultaneously with his face. The face that hid in his arms to conceal his weakness, his legs coming up to his chest in the ultimate resigned pose. It couldn't be true. He was lying. No…

"Because I'm HIV positive."

I stuttered, gasping to breathe before I tried to conceal my reaction, tone it down for his sake. He seemed so lost, so alone, so abandoned. I would be damned if I were going to let him pity himself, believe that he should resort to drugs to survive. I would help him out, doing whatever it took to make him happy again. I wanted him to have faith.

My hand moved to remove the needle, picking it up without showing any signs of fear or disgust. When the space beside him was free, I dragged myself closer, throwing an arm around his broad shoulders, my face leaning on his bulging bicep. It was awkward because I was awkward but I felt like I wasn't just standing in the sidelines anymore and he had yet to push me away. I could tell he was tense and shaking but I didn't deter. This wasn't about me.

"I am so sorry, Thresh. But it's going to be okay. I am certain. You know this. Everything is going to be fine, right? I mean these days they are so close to a cure. They have all these fancy medication—I am so sorry. How can I help?" I kept rambling in desperation as if I was trying to convince myself. I felt like a child, trying hard to please my parents by saying the right thing without knowing what they wanted to hear. I stopped talking when I felt him hiss under his breath. I closed my mouth and sat in silence beside him until he decided he was ready to talk. Sometimes, it was better this way.

I remembered how Gale would let me just sit beside him, munching away at his food, watching him play, when I was feeling down. I remembered his gorgeous eyes and the way he would look at me lovingly. I remembered how he had not overreacted when I had slipped out of my traitorous mouth, sobbing and scratching at my face, that I thought I was gay. Gale, my best friend, my first love. Shit! I needed him. I had let him down. I had to call him, make things better. I grasped my phone between my fingers, promising him silently that I would slap myself out of this madness. I would not let the dark, morbid obsession with these messed up individuals make me part of them. I was better now. I was normal—Gale had made me normal. His words would heal everything, tame me back to my cage.

We both pondered on what we needed to do to keep our heads above water, as the room plunged in complete darkness. The walls turned black and I looked around once to try and make out my surroundings. I could see the blinking light of my laptop, shedding some light on the situation before letting us hide. Thresh had not moved at all, as still as a statue, and I thought he would never come out of the burrow in his mind when his voice, clear with only a trace of poignancy, filled the room. He was whispering, which made me believe he was reveling himself to me on a deeper level than anybody in this dorm. He didn't want the words to fly through the walls; he wanted them to come out in the open, await for some sort of judgment, before fading away forever.

"You like stories, right? You keep asking about this school, about us and our fucked-up lives," he stated under his breath, his face moving to lean on his hands and glare at the opposing wall. He had gathered the pieces of his indifference from the mess on the floor and now he was back to his distant, controlled self. I could tell his shield was fragile though and I had to be careful not to break it. He needed time to reinforce it. I would be his shield until then.

I pulled away, reaching to turn on my desk lamp, staring at him, nodding at the truth behind the statement, about to apologize for my nosiness. I had been awfully inquisitive about their lives because though I knew I was playing with fire, jumping back and forth the boundary line, I couldn't help myself. I felt important around them, as if I could change their lives even a little. I could make a difference in something so big and out of my league. They had so many to choose from but they could choose me. I would be different. Clearly, I wasn't the only one with that mentality, looking at the way people fawned and doted over all of the mafia children whether it was Marvel and his beauty, Cato and his attitude, Clove and her personality or Glimmer and her mysteriousness.

"I will tell you a story, one that nobody knows. A special one because that's what you strive to be: special, ain't that true, little boy? I will warn you though, if this ever gets out, it could destroy a lot of lives. I think you need this responsibility to keep you grounded and I think you definitely need that empowering feel to keep you from falling head over heels, from signing a contract with the devil because that's what any sort of relationship with us looks like," he continued in his usual deep voice and my eyes had widened, staring at him in disbelief.

I knew he was bitter and I knew he was hurt by the story so he was trying to push it onto somebody else. He thought that sharing it would trouble me and maybe lessen his pain. He wanted to shock me but I couldn't be mad because if it meant he would feel better, I could give myself up as a sacrifice. Besides, I was burning in curiosity but I would like to think my intentions were mostly good. This was a secret, after all. A powerful one. Wasn't that what Cato said this school revolved around? Weren't secrets Marvel's reward? Why were they so important? Who wanted the information? Who was the collector?

"I will never repeat it to a soul," I promised under my breath in that state of hypnotic wonder. I was taken back to when we sat around the camping fire, sharing mystery stories in the darkness of the night. I felt like I was about to be shown something magical, something so secretive that I had been called to protect its sanctity. I felt light with joyful curiosity but heavy with fear that I would disappoint. I was far too elated for something so dark. I was in too deep about to swim deeper. I would soon be surrounded and then all it would take would be one wrong move, a cut, and the blood would attract my predators. I would be shred to pieces, eaten alive.

"Do you know what's in this package?" he asked all of a sudden, reaching under his bed and grabbing a sizeable, square box, wrapped with a muddy-brown-colored paper and tied with strings. It was clear that the reason behind the extra wrapping was to protect its identity. Clumsily done by someone with hands too big for crafting, some laborer who probably stained his hands with much more important tasks. The box sat on his lap ominously and my hand slid on its surface, my fingers trailing on the rough cardboard edges, my eyes scanning it before they went up to his twinkling ones. I shook my head no, gulping. I moved away as if his admission would make the box come alive, make the danger more palpable.

"A pound of pure cocaine," he stated plainly, shrugging his shoulders apathetically, his eyes still misty in pain. I blanched, speechless, waiting for him to continue his story. This was illegal; this was so illegal he could get jailed for this. He could get fifteen maybe twenty. "This sells for around 15, 000 dollars, blondie."

"Why do you have it? How—how do you even get this?" I asked, lowering my voice to a rasp and looking around suspiciously. I didn't even know what to do with myself or this knowledge. He had allegedly admitted to having a package worth thousands of dollars of crack. What did he expect to gain from letting me in on this? Did he want me to participate, share his profit, essentially deal innocent children the substance that would destroy their lives, enslave them to addiction? I couldn't possibly; how had I even ended up in this state? I was so against drugs. I had seen the effects it had on families first hand and I would be damned if I would curse anybody else. I frowned at him. Maybe he was far too gone for me to help.

"The mafia often assign simple exchange tasks to the children to get them involved. Things like getting this package to a specific destination; things that rarely get dangerous," Thresh explained, ignoring my frantic reaction. I had been staring at the box in fear ever since he revealed the insides. My mouth had gone dry. I believed the only reason my body wasn't fully engaged was because the confession was still unbelievable. It hadn't hit yet, the reality.

When our eyes made contact he challenged me, asking if I could handle the truth, if I had the guts to be this close to them. I didn't and I knew it but against all my better judgment, I nodded in understanding, dropping all of my opinions for one night. If I were going to earn their trust in this deep level, I would have to see the situation from their point of view, look at the world through the shady places they stood, with guns in their belts and drugs in their pockets. I told myself this was just a tour. I could test the grounds and get out in time if I decided it was too much. I wasn't committing a crime; what could an attempt to unravel their personalities cause? I was on even ground and though I could sense it was slowly shaking beneath me, I could still jump. I saw the rest of the space and I could make the leap.

If I wanted to truly explore this interest, I would have to accept the fact that this was illegal. These children were criminals or soon-to-be ones. I would have to admit to myself that my craving to get closer was fucked up, dangerous—a dead end. I had already admitted my dilemma yet I couldn't back away because my body didn't fear them, because that demented part of me that was usually fine with sleeping in the shadows of my past had awoken. That part liked the adrenaline, that feeling of being alive, noticed. That part liked to test boundaries, wallow in the gray area, and the more I got closer to them, the more I was letting that part win over the quiet, safe one my parents had instilled in me through the many years they spent treating me as if nothing had ever happened. What had they said?

"Nothing bad can get you here. You are just a normal, little boy who lives with his parents, goes to school and plays with friends. All the dreams mean nothing. All the memories are fake."

In other words, I wasn't an abused child that his mother locked in the closet for hours until he shat his pants and drank his own tears. I wasn't the kid that my mother called a 'piece of trash'. I wasn't the one she put into an actual trash bag and left outside in the sun until he passed out from the lack of oxygen. That was abnormal and no, I was normal. I was a different child. Who was that boy and why was he so alike I in looks?

I hated how the images in my head had increased since I came to boarding school. Something triggered them and I hadn't been told how to control the flow once it had started. I had been trained to avoid the triggers: orphanages, dark places, closed spaces, threatening people, _knives..._

What was the prompt here though? I knew but I wasn't going to admit it anytime soon because I was pretty certain it was Marvel.

I was scared of myself at times because when I started ranting, it was as if I couldn't control my thoughts. They said things that I wasn't even aware about. They surprised me to the point that I was certain I was going insane because I couldn't be the one thinking those absurd beliefs and recreating those original scenes. I had never seen these people, never been to these places. Where was the influx of grotesque and morbid themes coming from? Maybe I still needed to meet with a therapist. Maybe it wasn't quite as over as I thought in the beginning.

Thresh broke me from my paranoia with his voice and this time I welcomed the distraction, staring at him as if I had forgotten he was beside me. I looked down at my hands because that was my cue and they were still. I was fine. I was in control, just spaced out again.

"Well, last year one of these tasks presented itself. It was to a small gang in a region of Boston they call Mattapan. They were insignificant, vengeful criminals and the mafia had previously paid them no attention. The mafia is too high up to notice scum like that. But unfortunately, they had come up with this brilliant plan, which they had appropriately named 'Tumor'," he continued and I looked from his foggy eyes to the package in his lap, imagining the white powder inside. This time, I didn't freak out. My mind was busy analyzing the meaning behind their project name. It dealt with spread that was certain but what kind of spread? Drugs of the sort, any new materials? I flinched when I heard his name—my palms got sweaty. I didn't want him involved.

"Marvel would deliver the package and when they got their hands on him, they would stab him with one of these," he muttered gravely, holding up the filled needle in front of my shocked gaze. I understood what he wanted to say. I knew where he was heading with this. I didn't want to hear it because just the thought of Marvel being in that sort of danger was sending my heart in spasms. I bit my lip to keep myself strong enough to accept the ending. The needle gleamed in the little light, the tip inviting me in but at the same time pushing me back because just a pinch, a tiny little slip up, could change my life. It reminded me of sleeping beauty. One little prick of the spindle…

"They figured if they got him infected, he would spread it to the main bases of action before eventually becoming useless. They figured it was the biggest 'fuck you' in mafia history and they had resigned to their torturous deaths as long as the big Sergei of the Bratva saw his magnificent creation, his only son, his proudest achievement, bleeding from the inside, breaking before his helpless eyes," Thresh explained in graphic detail, his face scrunching in pain, his eyes playing with the needle as he squeezed some of the liquid in the carpet, watching in fascination as the drug spurted in deadly droplets. I flinched away from his little fountain of death, my breath catching in my throat at how much he objectified the beautiful boy. The story was cruel and I wanted it to stop but I needed to know if Marvel was as lost as Thresh. I needed to know if I had to pick him up; if Cato had been fooled.

"What do you mean it would spread?" I wondered out loud in worry, my voice cracking, and with the shocked look on his face he gave away the fact that he had slipped, that he had divulged information that I wasn't ready to hear. He stared at me in devastation once before biting his lip and shaking his head, pleading with his eyes for me to drop the question. It wasn't my place and though my curiosity was flailing at the possibilities, I bowed my head down in understanding to avoid his eyes and changed my question. Besides, I thought this one was more important anyway.

I didn't need to know what his parents were making him do. I didn't want to know why he looked so sexually attractive. I didn't think I could handle the thought of his screaming self, dominated by older men, trapped—no! Marvel…But the boy my mind was seeing wasn't Marvel. The boy that was sobbing in the images flashing through my eyes, clutching the sheets against his naked body was blonde with big, innocent blue eyes. The boy was me and I had started hyperventilating. I didn't remember this. How could I see myself through my own memories? This couldn't be me. Who was this boy? Why was nobody helping him when he was being pulled roughly against his will? Where were his parents?

"Is Marvel safe?" I whispered my second question rapidly in worry when he stopped talking, his finger playing with the wet spots on the carpet. He was fully dissolved in his own memories and I had to escape mine. He licked his lips once, taking a deep breath, his eyes glassy, my panicked presence long forgotten. I had to keep talking to stop the images running through my head. I had to hold myself strong, lock those doors again. Make my past just darkness. My voice sounded weak to my ears and I hated that it looked like I cared only about Marvel when he was standing there, vulnerable. I cared about him too and I was trying to help, swim to the shore, only to realize his big frame was drowning me with him. I couldn't breathe.

"Yes. Finnick went against the strict orders of the Bratva and called Marvel, ordering him to stay put. They were furious with him that day, punished him pretty badly I believe, and only realized he had way more influence than they first predicted when my father sent me as the replacement," Thresh ended his story with a sad look, shrugging his shoulders in a defeated way. I palmed my face, my fingers threading through my hair.

That could have been Marvel—fuck that! That could have been avoided! Had they listened to the warning, had they lowered their snobbish noses temporarily to see that they were not gods, that people despised them, they could have saved both of these children. How could they not double check when it involved their own kids?

I understood then through shaking lips and wet eyes that their lives weren't as privileged as I thought when I saw Marvel skidding down his own private ice rink. They were pawns and in a way they were born to a life where there was no way out. If they wanted to survive, they had to toughen up and swallow their tears. Was that the reason Marvel never cried? Had he cried all his supply when he was young?

"Who sends the package now?" I asked bitterly, frustrated at their predicament, noticing the way Thresh flinched badly at the mention, his eyes darkening and his hands throwing the package against the wall as it landed on my bed. It felt symbolic. I had been passed a task and only now did I realize that leap from before, the one I thought I could make from my crumbling ground, was much trickier than I first had assumed. The distance had increased and I could feel the rocks beneath me shattering. Soon I would have to jump, knowing I wouldn't make it. Then there would be falling. My stomach dropped reflexively at the thought.

"I can't," he screamed, punching the drawers and sending them bumping into the wall with a screech, the objects on top stumbling out of balance. I jumped aside at the impact, looking at him in sadness. He was crumbling on the floor and I pursed my lips in determination, standing up and moving towards the discarded package. I touched its sides once more as I felt him move towards the door, raising the hood on his head and turning towards me with that same look of tragic desperation. "I can't do this one."

He left and I did the one thing I could at that point: laughed hysterically until my chuckles turned into sobs and I was cursing my life like no other, clutching the package against my chest, begging for comfort from the black hole of my joy. Talk about the shit hitting the fucking fan. I could feel it raining on me and I was so neurotic that I couldn't control my emotions anymore. Laugh. Cry. Giggle. Sob. Shit.

I didn't realize how hard I was sobbing until I heard the door open behind me. I squished my face on the pillow in a meek attempt to hide my weakness. I couldn't stop breathing though and the gasps gave away my state because it was getting harder to get air in my lungs, my mouth was too busy whimpering and complaining. I had no control over the fluids on my face, my sheets wet and my sleeves tainted my by furious helpless attempts at eliminating the evidence. I hadn't succeeded and now I was a mess to whoever had just entered the room.

My eyes snapped open when I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around me. The bed dipped and I was pulled against somebody's warm chest, still laying on my destroyed sheets. I squirmed in discomfort, whimpering, my entire frame shaking. Flashbacks still bothered my mind, turning on and off, giving me mental seizures.

Then I saw his face, his perfect blue eyes and everything slowed down, fell into a state of calmness. The tears kept rolling down my cheeks but I couldn't feel them anymore. My breathing was heavy but I could finally manage to be satisfied with the amount of air coming in.

One of his hands slid up my back to thread into my messy, sweaty hair and he pulled me further into his chest as he sat at the edge of the bed, leaning on the headboard. This time I didn't protest because I knew he was safe. My hands found their way to his tight shirt, clinging on it helplessly and my eyes closed. He still smelled stronger than an Abercrombie & Fitch store but now it only served to block all my other senses with its sheer strength. I liked the darkness and I like the warmth. I felt sleepy; my body wanted to give up thinking because I couldn't handle the barrage of problems assaulting my frontal lobes. My forehead ached and the area above my nose, my sinus I believe, felt heavy and blocked from my tears and snot. Sleep was good.

"How do you get yourself in these situations, hmm?" he murmured above me and I felt his lips move against my forehead as the breath caressed my bangs out of the way. I didn't want to answer because I couldn't tell him I sought them. I was the one to blame. I shouldn't have been crying right now over something I thought I was strong enough to handle. I didn't know how to explain my fascination. I was lost but I wanted him to keep talking because analyzing his voice soothed my frantic mind.

"I am so stupid," I whispered in a sad tone, chuckling in self-deprecation. I could feel the tears threatening to spill but hearing his short laugh above me stopped them in their tracks.

"No, Peeta. You are very smart and that is your problem. You are the only one who can figure us out. The speed at which you put the puzzle together fascinates me, scares the shit out of Clove and endangers Marvel," he muttered in a mock annoyed tone before changing it into a serious one at the last confession. I smiled against my will because his fingers had started playing with my hair, easing the tension in my head. My body was tingling in pleasure but my mind was pacing back and forth in stimulation. I had not stopped thinking about the last part and I knew when he left that thought would be the only aspect of his 'comforting' left behind to plague my obsessive mind.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked suspiciously, raising my head to look at his eyes because I didn't want to be manipulated anymore. I needed to analyze his thoughts as much as I could in my state of defeat. He had just admitted they all thought of me as an unnecessary factor that could threaten their well-being so what was he gaining from wrapping his body around mine. Was this a ploy? My body heated up in fury at the thought because I was sick of being thrown around like a fucking ball.

His eyes clouded in thought and he bit his lip momentarily, looking away from me and towards the package that he had set aside. Everything seemed to be focused on that devilish box. I didn't waver to show him any mercy, glaring at him skeptically with my blood-shot eyes. He sighed heavily, shrugging lost. I believed he didn't have an answer himself but I wanted to hear one. I had to. I was in the middle of the woods with no hope of getting out so everything that came out of this random traveller's mouth could only mean a step forward. Unless he was the wolf…then I would be eaten. Was that how the tale ended?

"Because I feel responsible. You are obviously hurt and I'm not going to point fingers and assign the blame. I am sure they don't mean to involve you but that doesn't mean you don't deserve an apology. Do I wish you didn't play hide and seek in our closets this much? Oh yea. But will I give you a hug when you burst out crying after having found a skeleton or two—this metaphor is getting too extended for me. See what Brutus does to you?" he explained, rambling insistently, and by the way he wasn't looking at me during the speech I knew he was trying to make sense of it as it was flowing out of his mouth. My face had turned into a thousand different expressions in an attempt to catch the right one.

The words felt jumbled in my foggy mind but I smiled nonetheless because though he had admitted he had practically no idea why he was here, he had also divulged that he cared about me and he was kind enough to not want to hurt others. I think he was the biggest contradiction out of all the children put together because at times he seemed so arrogant, pushing me aside and telling me he wasn't interested. Yet at other times, he was the only one smart enough to notice my suffering. He watched out for me in that cruel, smothered in self-interest, method he had. He hurt me to distance me from them because he knew I wasn't strong enough to stand on my own.

Maybe I should have started listening to him. He had been right about my affairs with Marvel even if he was acting partially due to jealousy. It was just hard to comply to his wishes, move away and never look back, when he couldn't understand how attached I already was to the curly-haired soon-to-be blond again boy. I wasn't infatuated with his sexy looks; this wasn't a high school crush where I carved his name on my desk. I was obsessed with his story, his strength, and all of their strange personalities. I felt drawn to their lives like a bee to that sickly sweet nectar.

And the crazy thing was I thought I was strong enough. I thought I bounced back quite well. He couldn't see that the tears were a necessity because I was very different from Marvel who never felt the need to use them. I think I was stronger than he thought and the salty liquid, reflexively covering my eyes, was merely my protective measure and judging by the way his arms had wrapped around my waist, securing me to his form, it worked fairly well. My life had taught me that no matter how much you were in pain at the moment, as long as you picked yourself up, you could survive. You had made it. Physical pain was temporary; the mental one was the aspect of my self-destructive personality I really worried about. I thought about restarting the Xanax though it made me extremely sleepy. I was really sleepy at the moment.

I heard his phone ring and he shifted a little to remove the iPhone from his back pocket and place it in front of his face. From the position I had moved in, lying next to him on the bed, no longer sprawled like a whore on top of his godly chest, I could see Marvel's name pop up with a picture of the two of them making faces at the camera. My heart did sting momentarily but I pushed it aside because I could feel the heat of his body next to me. He sighed, looking far too exasperated than he should have, considering it was his favorite boy calling. He looked at me once and I nodded, signifying I wouldn't fuck this up if he answered it here. I was pleasantly surprised to note, he turned on the loud speaker.

"What's up, Marv?" he answered cheerfully and I cringed at how much happier he had made his voice sound. I momentarily forgot they weren't in talking terms thanks to yours truly. I wanted to slap myself because I felt like smiling at Marvel's angry tone. I pushed that disgusting aspect of my personality down. I couldn't be a bitch to the only two people who had been nice enough to guide me in a position where I could fuck up their friendship—relationship, fuckbuddyship, whatever.

"You called? Can it wait or is it important? I have five," Marvel blurted distantly on the other side and I saw the way Cato's eyes darkened with the other's indifferent tone. He bit his lip before opening his mouth. I could hear the sound of hockey sticks clashing in the background. He had said he was away at a game. That was probably why he wasn't back yet though most practices were over for some time. He had missed dinner and I wondered if he would be hungry.

"Five's enough. There's a package here," Cato mumbled and my ears perked up at the mention. I heard Marvel curse under his breath on the other side. People were screaming for him and I could hear him dismissing them.

"What's in it—I am on the phone, dick, go away—Cay, faster please—that's great, Sam, disappear from my presence," he kept muttering back and forth annoyed. I could hear the other boy, Sam I assumed, laughing out loud in the background. I didn't know if he had noticed the nickname or if it had become a habit but either way it made Cato smirk to himself. I loved how people made faces when they were on the phone.

"Daffodils, a pound of them actually. Thresh has it—," Cato muttered before being interrupted by the chaos happening on the other hand where boys were screaming simultaneously, congratulating Marvel and seeking his attention.

"Thanks, yeah, on the phone actually—Sec, Cato I need to leave this hellhole. I can't hear shit—Sonny, I'm outside," he was talking on the other end and I could hear his temper growing with every different voice that addressed him. I was surprised we hadn't heard the phone crack yet. Cato was chuckling, looking at me and rolling his eyes. He muttered 'wait for it' and I was confused until I heard the commotion coming from the hockey match.

I heard the door close on the other end before being enveloped by normal noises again, people chattering, light music in the background. I assumed he had left the locker room to enter the main area. It was fun to imagine his surroundings based solely on sound. My stinging eyes were drifting shut with their calming voices until he started to freak out.

"Okay, sorry, man, proceed—I love you, too—Did you say daffodils—Thank you, thank you—Cato, I am dying—Yes. Yes! Please, I'm on the phone—one pound of coke?—Oh, you want a diet one? Fuck you!—I will murder someone tonight, Cato. Prepare the shovel—One minute, please, I am planning your death—Cay—I love you. I love you. Now, shut up; my dog's dying—Speak fucker, speak," Marvel was rambling rapidly back and forth and I could see Cato giggling like a maniac on the other side, barely able to enter one word before Marvel's attention was gone again.

I found it amusing and I could hear the explosion coming from the intensity of his anger. He must have been fuming though most of the other voices where high-pitched girly ones dragging out declarations of love over and over again. It warmed my heart to hear him reply but I would have rather been there, hugging his arm next to me and mocking the bitches. I was waiting to hear the finale and I assumed Cato was too because he purposely wasn't saying anything fast enough for the boy to understand and end this torture. Marvel's monologue had escalated to the point that I couldn't stop the grin on my face. This was why I liked this kid. I missed him already. I had to fix shit.

"For one second, please pretend you don't exist! One measly second! I love you and you and you. You're hot. So is your boyfriend. Thank you, man. You were great out there too. You tell fascinating stories, Sam. I will sign your boobs after the game. I'll be right outside. No need to panic. I am not going to drop dead, unfortunately—Bye!" Marvel screamed on the other end, leaving both of us in the room speechless. His voice had turned high-pitched and sarcastic making the scenario even funnier.

I heard another door slam shut before there was silence. I had not heard another comment since the outburst. I wondered if this attitude would make him less likeable but considering how he had twisted the words at the end to flatter most of the people, I could imagine the flushed faces of the girls, blowing him kisses and giggling about how he was such a 'bad boy'. He knew what he was doing; he seemed to be a pro at controlling the situation though his temper tantrums had a startling effect on you.

"Sorry about that. Talk to me," Marvel muttered, his mood soiled. I noted the immediate change in his attitude now that he was away from the public eye. I saw Cato's expression turn serious before he sighed once, preparing for this conversation.

"You are loved, I see. Thresh got a package today and yes; it's a pound of coke. He won't deliver it. You know how he gets," Cato muttered, leaning back on the headboard, holding the phone close to his face. I heard Marvel grumble before he started speaking again; the tone was softer but the irritation managed to shine through and overpower his compassion. I wanted them to help Thresh because he clearly needed someone. I couldn't do it being so out of the loop but they were different. I wondered if I was going to witness the cruelty and selfishness of the children for the first time when it came to their group.

"My hands are tied, Cay—" Marvel started gingerly, sensing the delicate topic, and I felt Cato fluster beside me, shaking in anger so I expected the explosion but I didn't understand the source of the frustration.

"Don't be a pussy, Marvel. After all he has done for us, the least we can—" Cato yelled back at the phone and now it felt like he was scolding the other boy. I had learned that was never a good idea when confronting people. You had to sound like you were discussing a problem on the same level. You couldn't preach the right way because people are stubborn creatures. I knew he had fucked up though I was certain Marvel wouldn't call him out on it because he let Cato have his way most of the time no matter whether he was right or wrong. I didn't know who was more dependent on the other.

"I'm not being a pussy! We both know I don't mind especially when it comes to helping the others out. I won't deliver without Finnick calling though so forg—" Marvel snapped back angrily. I could tell by his tone that he was hurt by Cato's accusations. Whenever he was angry his voice became dark with some traces of sadness, which probably came from his insistent pouting. I tensed on the bed because I saw Cato's knuckles become white as bone before the red spilled inside his palm. I placed a hand on his thigh but he pushed me away.

"Will you stop shampooing his dick-hair with your saliva for one second?" Cato blurted out furiously and I looked at him, horrified and disgusted by the graphic description. What the actual fuck? He didn't deem me with a look back and I heard Marvel's bitter chuckle on the other line. I was certain the imagery pained the blonde more than it pained the one it was targeted to. I could sense Cato losing his temper fast.

Why was Cato being so stubborn on something that had saved Marvel's life in the past? Oh, wait, they both didn't know. I did and now I had to keep my mouth shut. It was hard to watch this go down, witness them hurting each other when I knew that it was for the best. Cato was being a jerk yet I couldn't judge him because he had been so nice to me minutes ago and because I could see his eyes become more wounded with every jab Marvel sent back along his way. He wasn't used to the curly-haired boy fighting back and he was unprepared. He couldn't be on the defensive; he didn't have enough training.

"Oh, that's original, Cato. What was it last time? 'Graze on his ass hair'? These are gems really. Like I said, forget it. Fin watches out for me—" Marvel sarcastically commented before attempting to control his voice. He was trying to explain his predicament and Cato was having none of it because he wasn't doing it right. Marvel was really oblivious to how his words got interpreted. So he ended up digging a deeper hole. I felt like I wanted to help him but I wasn't about to betray Cato. Rarely-sweet Cato, whose greatest weakness really was this Finnick character; Katniss had been right. Just the mention of his name got him riled up beyond thought and here was Marvel, stubborn as a little child, repeatedly saying 'no', pouting and stomping his feet.

"I watch out for you! Don't you trust me?" I heard Cato yell back, standing from the bed and pacing around the room. He was wildly motioning now with every statement that he uttered. I was fairly certain he regretted those exact words after they left his mouth. I stayed laid down, watching him lazily. I didn't want to get involved this time and he had told me to be quiet. I had faith in Marvel. He always came through especially when Cato started using these low blows that basically whined: 'don't you love me?' I was bitter, I admit, but I was partially right at the same time.

"I do, Cay. Don't make it about that—" Marvel mumbled in a calmer tone that still held traces of rebellion. I thought Cato would relax because he usually let go when he heard Marvel 'come back to him'.

"Is this because I kissed Peeta?" I looked up in surprise and gave Cato a face that told him I thought he was not only mistaken but also slightly crazy. Marvel sighed and my heart sped up at his verdict. My mouth had gotten dry and I was repeatedly swallowing. I couldn't pretend I wasn't interested now and I was glad Cato had settled on the floor where Thresh had previously been, with his head in his hands. I could tell he was as anxious as I to hear Marvel's reply because the moment he asked the question, his eyes widened in disbelief and he slapped his hand against his forehead then banged his head on the wall behind him.

"Umm, I—Cay, I am at my half-time. My coach will murder me and you keep driving this conversation deeper into the devil's asshole. I'm over that, I think. I don't really understand but it's whatever. I like him so it's supposed to hurt, right?" Marvel murmured under his breath with some effort and I bit my lip to hold back the smile, threatening to split my face. My heart was fluttering, my mind relishing in the relief of forgiveness. Cato didn't seem to have brightened as much as I at the news. He had pursued his lips in an almost sympathetic look. He wasn't angry any longer though and that meant Marvel had worked his magic well.

I couldn't rub my joy in his face yet but as I lay down on the soft comforters again, sleep seemed much more alluring. I hadn't realized how much my conscience was hurting until I heard his voice again and a part of me was fighting, pushing against my ribcage painfully, to get out and approach him. My gut coiled and I couldn't let the idea go. The guilt had manifested itself in the images. That was the trigger, I assumed. It had to be. Now, it was gone and I was free again. I wanted to sleep.

"I will deliver the package tomorrow if you let me burrow your car. I'm driving four of us to pick up supplies in Boston anyway. I'll make a pit stop on my way back. I gotta go now though…They do this dance, the chicks here, whenever we score. It's adorable. I gotta show you the vids," Marvel murmured softly and I could see how hard Cato was trying to keep himself from smiling. His eyes shone in pride for a second before getting wet by a strange veil that I thought was uncalled for. Marvel had given up yet again. Wasn't that what Cato wanted?

"I am sure they make you really happy, playboy. You can have the car. I'll be at Dover's tomorrow for Tennis but come over and pick up the keys. Win tonight, babe, and come by my room when you get back," Cato commented, smiling and chuckling at the idea of the girls, I assumed. His entire body had fallen into a passive pose, his eyes the only thing twinkling in relief. I found it fascinating to note that their conversations were so charged at certain points before transforming back to normal. The line dropped and the room fell in silence. I looked over to see him look at the ceiling in thought before his fingers slid on his phone's touchscreen again and I heard another ringing sound. He loved loud speaker and I could understand why. He loved moving his hands so he didn't want the phone to obstruct the movement.

"Hello," the voice of a young man answered on the other side, his accent obvious, his tone definitely defensive. It seemed clear he had no idea who was calling.

"May I please speak with Finnick Odair?" Cato reluctantly mumbled and I widened my eyes, my intrest piquing yet again. This was The Finnick? I could sense Cato's discomfort and his hands kept pulling at the carpet, his foot shaking. He was obviously hating every moment of this phone call.

"Speaking. Whom am I addressing?" The man murmured on the other side inquisitvely and I saw Cato move the phone away so he could take a deep breath before going back. The pause was strange and I wondred if Finnick had noticed.

"This is Cato," the blonde grunted under his breath, rolling his eyes at the ceiling and clenching his fist.

"Is this Niki or Nem? These aliases throw me off," I heard Finnick mutter and I could tell there was a change in his demeanor as soon as he realized he was speaking to one of the children. The polite tone was gone, replaced by a slightly irritated one.

"Niki. Nemanya goes by Nick these days. I know, cluster fuck. Are you busy?" Cato mumbled a little more forcefully than what I would consider indifferent, growling a little when Finnick chuckled on the other end. I had to admit, his laughter sounded nice if that was even a real thing.

"What do you need, Niki?" Finnick cut short and I saw Cato's body tense in preparation for the explanation.

"The package that arrived today for Thresh, can Sashi take it to Boston tomorrow?" Cato grit through his teeth, biting his tongue and swallowing his pride. I was surprised to note that though Marvel had agreed to do it anyway, Cato had taken measures to ensure that he would be fine. I could see the whole deal was taking its toll on the blond and I knew the last thing he wanted to do was talk to this person any longer than necessary.

"I'm in Paris right now, kid. You're not giving me much to work with but I will make some calls to double check. I will contact him tomorrow. Thanks for letting me know. Do you need anything else?" The other boy asked and I thought he was being fairly nice to Cato who had let go of some anger, instead staring apathetically at the blank wall in front of him. His shoulders had slumped with the confirmation, the tension leaving them.

"No, thank you. Have a safe trip," Cato murmured back politely and I smiled at his effort. The line dropped a second time and Cato stared at me, trying to assess how much I had put together. I shrugged lazily, cuddling further in my bed, letting him know I was far too tired to start another argument.

"Everything's fine now, blondie. Will you be okay?" he asked with a tired tone, standing up and moving towards the box, sitting quietly beside me. I nodded to his question, my eyes already drifting shut and my body overwhelming with that lethargic feel.

"Thank you, Cato," I whispered under my breath when he reached across from me to take the box. My eyes refused to open because he was too close and I didn't want to screw up my second chance. I wasn't going to be pathetic about it this time.

I did smile when his lips rested on my forehead, the tender texture cool against my heated brow. I did feel my heart jump in my chest when they lingered there for a second longer than necessary. And I did want to keep him there when he pulled away, the warmth of his body and the smell of his cologne fading away with the distance between us. The door closed and at the same time, I blinked my tired eyes open to find my phone. I wasn't going to sleep another night without lifting another weight off my back. I opened a new text message, typing speedily so I could return to that comfortable state of inactivity. I could feel my heart ache as I wrote:

**"I have been a dick and I am so very sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. Honestly, you are best thing in my life. I was just very overwhelmed and I pushed you away. I apologize for making you feel unimportant. I apologize for my thinking I could be strong enough to do it on my own. I can't, Gale. I'm slipping every day and I need you."**

* * *

My eyes closed _and opened again_.

_I am not in my bed. The floor is wooden and uncomfortable. I have been lying there for a long time because my side hurts. I look under my shirt to check the damage. My entire torso is covered in bluish spots. They hurt when I touch them. I poke several times on the one next to my heart. I can hear the insistent thumping behind the thin skin. That specific one does not sting. I poke again harder yet there is no effect. _

_The blue is spreading and the bruise grows bigger the more I scratch on it. It reminds me of the ocean. I lower my shirt. I look at the ground. The filthy ground, dusty and smelly. I wipe my hand across the surface, leaving behind a trail where my fingers touched. The dust rides up and I find myself sneezing. When I place my palm to cover my mouth I notice the rash on my cheek. It is covered in pimples; it itches. _

_A woman is calling for me. Well, she is calling somebody's name, a name I don't recognize. What is my name? It could be my name. I wouldn't know. _

_I walk towards the voice. It's soft and has a melodic tone. I can maneuver myself through the house but I don't remember what the path looked like. I am in a kitchen now. The woman is there; looking down at me and suddenly I have shrunk because I am so small compared to her big frame, towering in front of me. I can't see anything on top of the kitchen table. I can't see anything other than her face._

_She smiles at me but her eyes are cold. They are blue I think, a very dark blue. They could be black. They remind me of my bruises. Her hair is brown and wavy, framing her skinny face. She is still smiling as if she knows a secret I don't. _

"_Come up here, my little boy," she murmurs but I don't see her mouth moving. She inches towards me and I run. I don't know why but I am sprinting away. Now the house looks like a maze and I can't find my way out. What does the outside look like? Colors?_

_I'm on top of the stool in the kitchen again. How did I manage to climb up here? I look down and I notice I am too high up. I could try to jump but that would probably hurt. I stare at my dangling feet. I don't want them to break. So I stay put and look up again. _

_She is not smiling anymore. She looks annoyed because I tried to run away. She doesn't like that and for some reason, I keep doing it. I can't control my body. She leans on the table and she is holding a knife. It's one of those big ones she uses to cut the bread. She motions for me to come closer to her and I stretch my arms on the table. I notice a new bruise on the wrist. Was that there when I woke up?_

_She coughs and her eyes are telling me to approach but I am scared because I don't want to fall. I want to tell her that but I can't speak the same language she does. She doesn't like when I use my voice but I think she understands me when I cry. I could cry but I don't feel like it._

_I see her spidery fingers stretch towards me and I flinch because they are cold. She never touches me on my actual skin but I can feel the chills through my clothes. She drags me by my shirt and I dangle helpless for a second before she sets me on the table. I can see my naked toes. I follow my gaze and notice my diaper. Why was I wearing a diaper? I was so old. How old was I?_

_She picks up the knife again and starts scraping it against a wooden cork. I don't know what she is doing but I see the pieces of wood fly in the air and land on the table. The bottle of wine lays finished on its side. _

_I look up at her and she stares down at me with the same pleasant expression. She opens her mouth:_

"_This is why you and your father need to die."_


	14. Everything but the Kitchen Sink

**Chapter 12: Everything but the Kitchen Sink**

_Peeta's POV (Thursday)_

Sitting on my bed, I read the message I had sent Gale for the thirtieth time since I had come back from school. The day had been uneventful with the exception of my morning, which had me waking up in frantic panic, grasping at my sheets with sweaty palms. The dream was all but gone when my dilated eyes shot open yet that feeling of dread it left behind had me gasping for air. I knew the ending though this time my mind had been merciful enough not to supply it. If she had continued, my airway would have been sliced off. It would mark the ninth time she had taken my breath in the morning.

I had taken one long inhale in before struggling with my sheets and checking my pants. I hadn't had that dream in years and in the past every time I woke up to it, I had soiled my underwear. I couldn't understand why I lost control and my parents had deemed it worrisome so many of the times I had taken care of it without their knowledge. I was happy to acknowledge that I was clean that day and I fell back on the bed with shallow gasps, sighing in relief. Thresh had not shifted at my little fiasco but I could only imagine trying to explain why I had regressed back to the mindset of a three year old. I was scared because I couldn't be losing it in a boarding school. It wasn't safe and the last thing I wanted was to go back to those bastards I called parents on a 'medical leave'.

My anxiety-producing morning had dampened my mood the rest of the day and I hadn't been able to smile even when Cato offered me a grin in English, sitting on the opposite side. I knew he had made up with Marvel because I heard them in his room when the younger came back. The calm state of their friendship was the main factor behind Cato's happy attitude. That morning I had been too tired to even get jealous. All I wanted was sleep, relaxing, deep sleep that wouldn't end with my throat getting slit with a kitchen knife by a psychotic woman I had never seen before.

I stared at the clock again, shivering at the memory, and it displayed five in the afternoon. I should have been going with Marvel soon because I said I would join them in their little pilgrimage but honestly, I had no idea at what state our relationship was. I hadn't seen him all day, having skipped lunch, and I was uncertain as to whether he had forgiven me. So I sat there, dressed and ready, waiting by the door like a guard-dog to see if they would come back for me. Every time I heard the sound of a car coming from the propped window, I would run over like an abandoned puppy to check if it was them. I felt anxious and I felt pathetic. Now that I was on the bed, my eyes felt heavy.

Gale had yet to reply and after berating myself against the thought, I decided to rebel against my brain and double text, my fingers flying desperately against the plastic keypad of the Blackberry.

**Hey Gale. I had that dream again. The psycho killer woman dream. This time I didn't pee my pants like a retard. I think I might be getting better. Maybe. I miss you. **

I told myself even if he didn't reply, it lifted a weight of my chest. It was as if I had opened up and told someone, shared my pain. It amazed me how he could be my wall without even presently interacting with me. I really did miss him.

I startled when the door opened, jumping up and staring at it with wide, hopeful eyes. I knew the minute I saw Thresh's stoic face, my heart would fall but it didn't this time because Marvel was standing there, cocking his head side-ways and looking at me with those perfect green eyes. He was smiling faintly, his eyebrows raised, and I let out a surprised chuckle before rushing to him excitedly. He didn't leave me. He came!

I knew I was forgiven when he wrapped his arms around my shoulders, my face buried in his chest. His heart was hammering as much as mine and I snuggled closer to it, blurting out an apology. My hands were trembling in excitement and the adrenaline had partially taken away my breath, a task completed when he placed a chaste kiss on my lips. I blushed red in joy. Where had he been all this time?

"Stop apologizing. It's okay," he whispered and I was shocked to note my mouth had not stop moving since it saw him. I flushed worse, my eyes dropping down and my teeth capturing my tongue between them to ensure it wasn't rebelling.

"I won't—" I started again and he placed his hand on my mouth like Cato had done that day I threatened to break his friendship only this time, I could smell the soap on him and my body wasn't reacting to the threat. I was calm and slightly curious.

"I have an offer to make. Hear me out for a second, babe?" He murmured and I was certain I was burning his fingertips with the heat of my cheeks. The tender nicknames always got me flustered though I should have been used to them by now. Gale insisted on calling me 'boo' though we both knew that had romantic connotations. It had given me hope at first then hurt me for my stupidity. Now it was just familiar and I liked it. I had yet to get used to the way Marvel and Cato called people 'babe' without established relations.

He let go of me and spread before my eyes a blue sweatshirt, fairly new considering the year that it had written on the front. It only took a second to recognize what it was but it took way more than that to accept it. He turned it around like a trophy in front of my wide eyes and gaping mouth, his face now holding a shy smile. It was his orientation shirt, not as faded as Cato's and in way better shape than all of the ones I'd seen during orientation. It was the one that he never shared with anyone, the one that had only touched his toned torso. His last name stretched out in the back, claiming its territory, proudly white against the navy.

"I'll give you my shirt," he started and my ears perked, my arms instinctively stretching forward like a small child, "if you give me Cato's."

I froze midway, staring at his eyes in shock. He wanted me to trade shirts. He wanted to steal Cato's shirt from me and I wavered in indecision because I couldn't let go of it. I stood there in panic because I knew what he was saying. I knew he wasn't dumb and he was making his statement quite clear. He was drawling:

"I can offer you what you want from me if you give up Cato because he's mine."

It was simple and yet I was thinking about it so long that I saw his hands retreat back to his chest, hugging his sweatshirt in insecurity like I had hugged Cato's that day at the game. It felt like so long ago though I knew it couldn't be. I had barely been here a week. I stared at his eyes, pleading with him to not make me choose but he was standing his ground. He wanted me to pick a field and he was right in doing it. He was also selfish and I couldn't hate him for it because he did it so fucking well that he fooled everyone.

"Marvel, hurry up in there!" I heard Clove scream from the door and I saw his attention leave my silent self to switch to her controlling voice. He was about to open his mouth to reply to her when I growled possessively, blurting out my decision.

"Deal!" I stated in a stable tone, moving swiftly towards the drawers and rummaging them for his shirt. I would be the first one to wear Marvel's because I was done sharing shit with Clove. She was the only one to have worn Cato's but she hadn't managed to steal the one dangling before my eyes. I knew I would miss his strong arms and his pretty blue eyes but there was no way I would say no to Marvel standing in my doorway, attempting for a second time to breach a barrier with silly, stupid me. I was done hesitating, analyzing everything only to note that when I had the answer somebody else had solved the question. I was done being shy.

Marvel beamed at me in happiness and when I threw him Cato's old shirt, trying my hardest to touch it for as little as possible incase I gave up, he caught it in his hands, throwing it over his shoulder. I crossed my arms, unhappy that he had pushed me to this point but the way he swayed towards me, his twinkling jade orbs never leaving mine, was making my courage falter.

He stopped in front of my trembling body, his fingers playing with the hem of my shirt before he pulled it off, my arms rising above my head to obey him. He was hypnotizing me again with his pink tongue licking his bottom lip and his eyes hungrily devouring my skin. Nobody had looked at me like that and noticing the way his pupils went black sent shivers down my spine, my nipples perking up right on time for his mouth to descend on my right one. I moaned and he continued to nip down my chest, his tongue dipping in my bellybutton and his fingers holding my waist in a bruising hold. With every little mark he left, my eyes rolled backwards and when he kissed my hipbone like he had done the day he had sucked the life out of me, my knees shook in anticipation. I wanted it again and he could see it because I was straining against my jeans, feeling the drops of precum land on my underwear, the ones I didn't wet this morning.

He kissed me on top of my pants, looking up and I bit my lip, watching in fascination at how he lifted up to face me again. His lips were now in front of mine and I hurried to push them together, lightly touching his plump ones, moving against them without opening my mouth.

"You drive me crazy, little virgin," he mumbled against the side of my mouth, pulling away and moving towards the bed where he had laid out both shirts. I wanted to ask what he was doing when I felt the fabric cover my eyes and this time I popped out grinning, feeling his shirt against me, his baby smell invading my nose. He didn't smell as strong as Cato but he smelled natural, soothing almost. The shirt fit better and the inside was softer because of its lack of wear. He looked at me appreciatively and before I could stop myself, my arms were around his neck and my lips were moving against his, my tongue spelling out thank you for his warm one to figure out. His fingers were holding me close and we pulled away when the door opened. I startled, trying to move aside, make myself invisible, before realizing that his strong arms wouldn't let me escape.

When I noticed it was Clove staring at us in mild shock, I couldn't help smirking and my head moved back to his chest, my eyes never leaving her wide, hazel ones. I saw the way they moved to the back of the shirt before glaring at the owner of it in fury. If I had been alone, I would have backed down, left her thinking she was dominant—in control. I wasn't alone though. Marvel was there, shrugging innocently and looking down at me with a smile so I never broke the eye contact until she huffed, telling us to hurry up, before walking away.

"She is…difficult when it comes to this," Marvel sighed above me, moving away and leaving me pouting. I was about to whine when he grasped my hand in his, pulling me outside of the room. "I'm assuming you're all ready with how good you look."

The smile was back on my face and I followed him outside, selfishly hoping that we didn't run into Cato. I didn't know whom I feared for more, my betraying eyes or his attached heart. I knew both of us wavered though when the blond worked his charms and I was scared about what that meant in the future. Marvel would never give him up and I don't think Cato would let that happen either.

Clove was waiting for us outside next to a washed, red car, which I recognized as the Range Rover Evoque. I found it amusing that Cato would drive what they called the 'baby Rover' but now that I saw it, in its combination of red and black, glistening furiously against the sun, I was in awe. A part of me wanted to see the Maserati but that part was satisfied when I looked through the dark windows to see the red and black leather seats. I was grinning like a child, my fingertips leaving marks on the just washed windows.

The car gave a beep when Marvel approached and I was certain it was because it recognized the key in its pocket. Before I had time to act, I heard the door slam and Clove was in the front seat, still pouting in anger and ignoring Marvel. I looked at the curly-haired boy who was holding back an amused smile before motioning for me to go around. I was scared of confrontation and I didn't mind seating in the back. I wanted to tell him that but he had already opened Clove's door.

"I am seating in the front," she stated demandingly and I faltered at the way Marvel just smiled adorably, pursing his lips at her huffy attitude.

"Of course you are, Clo, but he has to get in. This car only has two doors," he pointed out, trying not to chuckle at the way understanding reached her eyes and she jumped out, a small smile plying in her lips at her own stupidity. A part of me felt good at seeing them back on good terms. They were best friends and the car ride would have been very awkward had they been fighting. Another part wanted to bark and nip at her squished face. Nevertheless, I climbed in the back, behind the driver's seat and we all got in.

"Check this out, Peeta," I heard Marvel mutter, pointing at the push-start button of the car and I grinned, watching the machine come to life at the touch of his fingertip. The lights came on and the engine purred softly. I was sort of creaming my pants at the car, the brand new leather sleek against my fingertips. It was so clean and I wondered if it was new or if he kept it in this shape. I think it might have been new because looking at the way Clove had already propped her feet up in the seat, it couldn't have lasted long with that abuse. I wanted to slap her shoes of the leather but she was already fooling with the red iPod that was attached to the car in one of those sticky pads I had seen drivers place on the front.

I could see Marvel depositing his wallet in the drink compartment and connecting his iPhone to the system before adhering it next to the iPod on the stick-pad. He put on his sun-glasses and Clove did the same, both frowning at the horizontal position of the sun. I couldn't help but think that they looked extremely bad-ass with the shades on. I didn't think I could pull that look off.

"Seat belts both of you," he muttered, adjusting his next to his body and moving the seat forward while Clove placed hers without hesitation. I faltered because I wasn't used to placing the seatbelt when I sat in the back. It seemed unnecessary in my family. I knew I would do it though when he turned around and gave me a glare, raising his eyebrows.

"With the way he drives, you'll need it, trust me," Clove mumbled and I was shocked to see her acknowledging my presence though she had yet to turn her eyes on me. She was scrolling through the songs and the names flashed quickly on the screen of the entertainment system.

Nick was waiting for us next to his dorm and I noticed District 1 was not far worse than Capitol. The building seemed big and the prestigious flag on top with the image of a diamond displayed that they had a decent amount of alumni benefactors. I wondered briefly why Nick hadn't decided to stay in Capitol. I assumed it had something to do with wanting the dorm monitor position. I wouldn't ask. Yet.

Clove moved again so he could get in and sit next to me, placing his redbull in the container in the middle. I had thought it was unnecessary and it inhibited you from seating one more person but Nick didn't agree as he unloaded his pockets, placing his phone and his pack of Marlboro cigs in the table keeping us apart. Marvel sped away and I saw the red-bricked buildings fading in the background before the car stopped spontaneously. Nick's knees hit the back of Clove's seat with a curse and I thanked Marvel for making me wear a seatbelt.

"Easy on the brakes, man. What the hell?" Nick muttered, rubbing his knees and hurrying to place on his seatbelt with a sulking expression. Marvel paid no attention, turning around and staring at me in questioning.

"Did you sign out?" he asked and I looked at him in that dumb way that said, 'I am lost'. I shook my head in the negative and I heard him sigh while Clove growled. They both collapsed on their seats and I didn't know what I had done wrong this time.

"Give him a break. It's his first time," Nick muttered, turning towards me with a sympathetic expression, and I smiled faintly. I assumed soccer had placed some sort of bond between us and I was glad to have him seating beside me.

"If you want to leave campus you gotta write all the info down on your blue-card, that piece of blue cardboard with your name in the boxes by the hallway. A teacher will that sign the card to sign you out. It's so they keep track of where you are," Nick explained and I heard his dorm monitor self pop out. He and Cato were alike in the way that they didn't seem like the most responsible people at first sight.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, not knowing what to say and looking at the back of Marvel's head because his forgiveness was what I really needed. I couldn't care less for Clove's cranky mood.

"It's fine, Peeta. We'll call Haymitch. It's your first time," Marvel comforted me and I heard him talk to what I assumed was Siri, telling her to call 'the duty phone'. Haymitch had had pretty much the same reaction, telling me to come to him next time. I assumed the only reason I got a free pass was because he felt irresponsible. He had never mentioned this before.

"Hey, look at this, Marv. Cato has a playlist titled 'To Drive Sashi Crazy'. This sounds interesting, eh?" Clove jabbed, scrolling down the list of songs, and I looked up in interest while the other boys chuckled.

"He still has that? It was how he annoyed the shit out of me when he argued in the car. It's basically all the songs that I despise and/or have bad memories from compiled in the list of the devil," Marvel explained lightly and I noticed from the rear-view mirror that his eyes glazed over in thinking about the past. They all did that journey through time thing in mere seconds. The car still drove ahead in the highway and only once I noticed the speed did I realize that we were cruising illegally at something that was definitely over the speed limit. I hugged my seat-belt closer.

"Oh! Remember this?" Clove cooed teasingly, playing a song and the entire car was filled with the soft pop music. The singing I realized soon enough was in French and I didn't miss the flinch in Marvel's face, accompanied by the squish of his adorable features, his teeth gnawing his bottom lip. I wanted a back story because I could barely understand the lyrics though I was certain they said, "Cry as much as you want because even though I know it drives you insane, it suits you."

Considering how morbid that sounded, I was certain I was making up words along the way. My French was in pieces after my years of fooling around in middle school and the only reason I even got to translate anything was because I could understand Italian fairly well from all the shows I watched in the language.

I was brought out of my thoughts when Marvel started singing along to it and my skin tingled at the sound of his soft, husky voice. He was even hotter when he sang if that were to be possible. He was one of those people you could hear in the radio and know they had a pretty face. He knew all the lyrics by heart though he apparently hated the song and he could speak in a fairly good French accent. I wanted to lay a kiss on his cheek but I was scared he would drive us into some other car at the speed we were going. Clove and Nick seemed to be as on the loss as I was about his change in language. My interest was really piqued now at the way she immediately turned down the volume to speak; Nick was leaning in as much as the seatbelt could allow.

"You know French?" Clove screeched in surprise, turning towards Marvel, and he chuckled nervously, shrugging and raising the volume again. Her hand moved to turn it down and I could see him roll his eyes. I glanced back and forth as they fought for the control over the music.

"Finnick taught me. You do remember this was the song he dedicated to me Prom night, right?" Marvel mumbled and I casually leaned to check the title on the screen and keep track of it. I wanted to read the actual lyrics if Finnick had first introduced Marvel to what sounded like a breakup song. That must have been his first Prom since Finnick was a senior when he had been a freshman. Had they gone together? Was that accepted in this school? The song was "Je Sais by Shym". I added it to my Blackberry notes.

"I thought Finnick was forbidden to speak French ever again?" Nick muttered in interest, pushing the conversation further and I could tell Marvel was fidgeting. Clove had that glare on her face that told me she was mad she wasn't told. She seemed worried as well. I was ready for the next song to come. Something from the 'fun' playlist maybe. Or even the jazz one. Anything but the 'painful memories and controversial debates' one.

"Finnick _is_ French or was, right Marv?" Clove added unsurely and Marvel nodded in response. I blinked at the information because I thought he was part of the Bratva before Marvel cleared things up for all four of us.

"He's not anymore. I think he denounced his citizenship when he got his Russian passport. He used to be their spy before he started working for us. It's complicated. They sorta want him dead," he explained, shrugging again and I felt both of the others drop back to their seats, Nick playing with his cigarette pack and Clove squinting to find another song. The air in the car settled back to a passive one and I started to breathe again. I wondered if they knew Finnick was in Paris. They must've if he was so easy to announce it. Was he in danger if they wanted him dead? Did I even care?

"I need a smoke, pretty boy," Nick whined and I heard Marvel grumble, stretching for the pack. Once given up, it was passed onto Clove who prepared a cig and placed it on Marvel's lips. All of the interaction happened without a word and I saw that ritualistic familiarity they possessed again. She lit her own cig and both windows dropped down as their hands stretched out in the fresh air to keep the toxic smoke out. We had entered the city and I could see the tall buildings though I could tell we were driving to the shorter ones, the ones that people often tried to avoid.

Marvel stretched to offer Nick the cigarette and the black-haired boy inhaled in relief, thanking him, before offering it back. The songs kept changing spastically and I wished Clove could just stop on one. They were switching from love songs to slow songs to rock songs. I couldn't see the theme except for how much they caused Marvel to falter, twitch, flinch or groan. Why would she want to stay on this playlist?

"I would hand it to you but the car doesn't have windows in the back," Marvel explained as he and Clove took turns sharing the cigarette with Nick who nodded in understanding. The song stopped and I recognized it as Christina Perri's Jar of Hearts before Marvel snapped finally. I made a face that said 'well, fuck' while Nick sighed under his breath, looking outside of the window to make himself uninvolved.

"Stop! We are not listening to this. I truly, _truly _despise this song, Clove," He blurted angrily and Clove bit her lip guiltily, nodding and switching the song immediately. The car fell in complete, awkward silence and I didn't want to swallow in case everybody would hear my gulp. I could sense how tense Marvel was and I could imagine why, thinking about the words of the song:

_Who do you think you are?_

_Runnin' 'round leaving scars,_

_Collecting your jar of hearts_

_And tearing love apart._

Clove had played with fire and now she was sulking, burnt and confused. I couldn't stand the misery any longer and I inched forward to place my lips lightly on Marvel's cheek. Nick and Clove gaped and I loved the way Marvel didn't flinch away. He gave me a smile, letting go of the steering wheel momentarily to touch my face with his fingertips, tickling my flushed skin. I sat back on my seat then with a smile that matched the one on Marvel's face.

Nick stared at me in fascination but there was a glint to his eyes that I couldn't yet place. I thought Clove would take it worse but she seemed relieved that I had solved the situation. She actually turned towards me and though her expression remained passive, her eyes shone in appreciation and I lowered mine, smirking lightly. The car kept driving and the songs rolled continuously though Marvel seemed completely unaffected. I was getting used to the pattern they exchanged their cigarettes in and my eyes were drifting shut like the sunset when the car came to a completely halt.

I jumped up to see the Liquor store, rundown and lonely in the alley. Nick stretched backwards and Clove turned off the music. They all breathed in unison and now my heart was trembling. Before I could voice my concerns, the doors opened simultaneously and the seats dragged back. Marvel was motioning for me to come out and I followed him into the store though I feared the outcome. We were underage and that wouldn't matter because I doubted there would be any police in this neighborhood anyway.

We entered the supermarket of alcoholic drinks and I stopped in the circle that the three of them had made, looking at each other. They looked too apathetic about our situation and my eyes kept going back to the entrance in fear. I was being paranoid. I wanted to touch Marvel but he had not made a move to hold me since he left the car and I was scared of rejection. This was still not a relationship and I didn't want to be labeled a level ten clinger.

"Clove you get Brandy and Shnapps. Nick will get the Tequila and Rum. I'll get the rest. Peeta can you do the beer?" Marvel ordered as the other two nodded. My mouth flattered enough for them to all stare at me in expectation. Clove's eyes were accusing and I wanted to prove her wrong so I said:

"How much do we need?"

Instead of saying:

"No I can't do the beer. I am seventeen and an alcoholic virgin amongst other virgins."

"Get umm how much did we get last time?" He asked Nick and the other shrugged. The more time passed, the more my palms got sweaty and I just wanted them to say something and leave already because I couldn't let them see me like this. I had to go have a freak out session on my own. I could manage this simple task. It felt like an initiation and though I had said I wouldn't get involved I found myself pushing one of those carts absentmindedly and staring at all the flashy brands. They had said seven packs of six, naming a couple of foreign names like Heineken. I doubted anybody in the US drank that international stuff but I had shrugged it off.

To reduce my anxiety I imagined myself strolling in the park at my leisure, picking up the packs and piling them on the cart like a castle of Lego blocks. The cart was heavy and I wondered how they were going to lift them and where they would hide them at school. We would be so fucked if we were caught with all of these on a room check. This was party material. You couldn't casually say that you were drinking it all by yourself.

We all met at the cashier and I noticed the others had noticeably less bottles in their hands. It was probably because of the high alcohol percentage in the other drinks. I could see the Absolut Vodka in Marvel's hands, right next to the Grey Goose. I gulped when our turn came and placing all the materials on the sliding counter was as embarrassing as getting the mocking look from everybody around us. I would die and melt into nothing if they made us put it all back. My hand had inched closer to Marvel, clinging on his shirt and he had finally wrapped an arm around my shoulders, whispering for me not to worry. Clove was leading the group with a smirk in her face that matched the one the man next to the counter had.

"Lots of juice here. I.D.-s?" The mustache-clad man muttered, raising an eye-brow and I wanted to slap my forehead when Marvel looked at the other two and murmured in that polite, innocent tone that I had come to associate with his mischievousness.

"Show him your I.D-s, guys?" he uttered and the three of them slapped a card on the counter, looking at him smugly, Clove crossing her arms and Nick placing his on his waist. The man blanched, stuttering, before looking at them in that lost way and I inched forward to see that the cards they had placed on the counter where not I.D.-s. They were American Express Centurion cards, the titanium ones that only the top managed to get. I gaped as much as the man, looking at all three of them simultaneously.

By the time I looked back at the bottles sliding down, the man had started packing all the stuff and when the five hundred dollars flashed in the front, they all decided to split it three ways. I was still trying to get my hands on one of the cards just for the feel but they were immediately pocketed to attract no further unwanted attention.

The back of the Evoque was big and I thought they had designed the car really well to keep it compact but at the same time practical. I gave one last look at all the bags before we climbed on again, this time Nick sitting in the front and Clove curling her legs up in the back next to me. I looked at her side-ways once to see if she was staring at me in disgust but she seemed indifferent, typing on her phone. Nick had blasted on new music and part of me liked that we had moved from the sad songs while the other part gawked at Nick's taste. Marvel was singing and dancing along making the situation even more worrisome.

"This…is trash," I murmured randomly against my breath and they both turned back towards me, staring at me in mock horror, before bursting into fits of giggles. I smiled, blushing and Clove smirked faintly too only this time she didn't want to hurt me. She was merely amused at my pain, which considering how she was a little bitch, was okay.

"This is Hyper Crush, which essentially means trashy pop that Marvie can shake his ass too," Nick explained, shrugging and earning himself a nudge from the curly-haired one. Staring at his hair, I noticed that it was almost as blonde as in the beginning. I sort of missed his dark look. He reminded me of a succubus in the most twisted and sexual way possible. That was the reason I woke up hard every morning.

"Must you do that in the car, man?" Marvel whined, pointing at Nick's hands. I noticed that he was rolling a jay, working hard to balance the grassy substance on the paper with the car skidding back and forth. Marvel changed lanes, speeding up, which caused his work to ruin and he growled under his breath, cursing the giggling driver to oblivion. They were both being so irresponsible that it was hard for me to not worry about my life. The darkness made the other cars look invisible, their front lights dancing past us, and the music was so loud that I was confused on how they heard each other now that they were bantering about the weed. Marvel trying to further inhibit the fidgeting Nick from finishing his goal.

"Stop bastard. You'll owe me for this. Marv, that speed bump is com—Marv, hey! Slow down, idiot—Jesus Christ, motherfucker!" Nick screamed, pointing at the windshield before giving up and clutching the jay against his chest in an attempt to protect it as the car hit the speed bump, physically jumping off the road in a screeching sound.

I felt my heart pick up as my body was flung against the front, held back in a sickening grasp by the seat belt. My hands fumbled to hold on to the seat and my head was inches from bumping into the side window. Marvel cursed out loud, attempting to slow down to no avail, and struggling to keep the car in the appropriate lane as it landed unbalanced, skidding side-ways.

Clove, who had felt too cool to buckle up, had jumped so high that her butt was pretty much in my face level. Her head bumped on the top of the car and she landed with an 'ouch', holding her hair and screaming obscenities at Marvel who finally managed to slow the car down. I was frozen backwards in my seat, my legs up to my chest and my hands on the side, my breath erratic.

"I'm sorry about that. Is everyone okay?" Marvel apologized and I could spot the trace of worry in his voice. He looked around at me first and I nodded gently in my terrified position. Clove was still cursing at him but now she had started chuckling at herself because Nick was replying the entire scene in verbal words, punching Marvel lightly in the arm.

"You need to not have a license. I mean we do this every week! You know it's there. Christ, man, Clove almost went through the roof of the car. Did you hear that thump? I had to assume the cannonball position to save my baby here, which by the way, is still on the paper, thank you very much," Nick was blabbering in a half scared, half amused tone and now they were all laughing along as if nothing ever happened. I had yet to regain my composure but the sound of his harmonious chuckles was getting me there.

The silence that had settled after Nick had thought it a good idea to lower the music was broken as the song ended abruptly and the ringing sound of the phone, shrilled on the speakers. Looking at the screen, we all seemed to have groaned simultaneously as Finnick's name popped up followed by 'Do not pick this up' in parenthesis. Marvel took his own advice, ignoring the ongoing repetition and I was starting to get a headache.

"Busted!" Nick drawled out smirking while Clove giggled annoyingly and I had forgotten she was there until I turned around to see her staring at Marvel's contorted face, the seatbelt now tight against her voluptuous chest. I expected the chaos to stop when the ringing sound disappeared only to be met with his angry voice, the accent becoming stronger.

"Matt, I know you are there. As you are aware, I am very busy so if I am calling your ass it means it's important. When I ring again you will pick up this phone or so help me God, I will freeze your credit cards."

The beep that followed his sentence had me gulping, while Marvel sighed heavily, pursing his lips and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Nobody spoke awaiting his second ring and I felt like that dark smoke in the sky had risen again and I had to prepare myself, the amusement was gone from all their faces. Marvel answered it on the first ring when he called again and Clove out of all the people, motioned for me to be quiet with a finger on her lips.

"Hey Finnick," Marvel murmured guiltily and I had never seen him that subdued. He was like a puppy that had peed on the carpet. Not even Cato could have that effect.

"Where are you?" The apparently-French man asked and I cringed at how fast he had gotten down to business. He had not even said hi and his tone was still furious from the last call. At times like this he looked much older than he actually was. His tone was so authoritative and his attitude could easily put all of them in line. I wanted to eventually see this guy in person but I was scared to meet him.

"Boston. Leaving Fenway right now. Are you calling about the package?"

"Who are you with? Does the person sitting next to you have shaky hands?" Finnick asked next, his tone softening a little at Marvel's dejected voice. He completely ignored the question giving Marvel an answer by not answering. Before Marvel could reply this time, Nick had screamed his response and with his loud voice, I felt the tension collapse, shattering on the floor and leaving some remains.

"They are trembling as we speak, baby," Nick blurted and I heard Finnick chuckle on the other side while Marvel smirked at the way Nick winked at him. I could see how deep their bond ran only when one of Nick's hands grasped Marvel's palm, the one he had sitting on the gear-stick. The contact was short but I saw the driver relax against the seat, his other hand no longer choking the steering wheel.

"Is that Nemanya?" The one on the other end asked interested and Marvel replied in the positive, urging the next statement. "I heard you don't go by Andal-Rudaj these days, Nem."

"I don't. I have forsaken my father's name since he became kind of a big deal in the City. Too annoying to handle," Nick explained and though I wanted to remain aloof, I knew his father because like he said, he was sort of a big deal. Alex Rudaj was only recently captured by the police on a scam he was setting up against the five families of the Cosa Nostra. I liked watching these kinds of news unfold and now I was looking at Nick's profile way differently, knowing whom his father was. I couldn't see many similarities though I could tell that having the Albanian blood in him had prevented his face from looking as Aryan as the other Russians. I wondered if he even spoke the language. His tone told me he wasn't fond of his dad.

"Uh-huh. Check the glove compartment for weapons," Finnick ordered immediately after and I was the only one who thought the change was rapid. Nick was opening the aforementioned place and Marvel seemed unfazed. I had to stop getting surprised at the things they did. I had to start expecting them more often.

"Oh, baby! There's two pistols in here, Fin," Nick exclaimed, holding up the two black guns for Marvel to see. I stared at them in fascination, wondering how holding one would feel. Were they heavy? Could you maneuver them as easily as in the movies?

"Good. The place you are delivering is in South Boston. I'll send the address over. They are fairly new to our circle and kind of ignorant when it comes to this business. We are looking for 20, 000 in cash. Flip through the money to make sure we aren't being played. You should be able to do this with no problems but if anything were to arise don't hesitate to shoot. Aim for non-vital areas such as the legs or the shoulders. Confirm with me that you understand that?" Finnick explained in a grave tone and I saw all three of their faces grow sullen and serious.

"Yes, sir," they repeated simultaneously and I wondered if this would get that dangerous. I turned towards Clove in surprise because I didn't know she would participate as well. She looked so small and fragile. Other than her fierce personality there was nothing threatening about her. Was it dangerous for girls to be around these drug-dealers?

"Call me when it's done, Mattie. Make sure nothing slides out of control, Nem," Finnick ended the conversation and I was about to breath in relief when his last sentence stole my oxygen.

"Oh and Matt, make sure you choose your allies well. It would save us some time to not have to kill them or cut their tongues off. We have enough Avoxes as it is."

The call dropped and I looked at the three of them as Clove stared back and me in defiance and Nick bit his lip in thought. The more they didn't speak, the harder my heart thumped against my fragile ribs. I was terrified and Marvel was not doing anything to comfort my fears. I knew he had meant for me to hear when he had said it but how had he found out? Was I in danger already? Had I gotten myself stuck between two groups without a way out? I looked back and forth between them, expecting some sort of explanation but the silence continued, the music not starting after the phone call.

"Consider yourself warned, _ally_," Clove muttered dismissively and Marvel just sighed painfully. I saw the fingers of one of his hands thread through his hair and by how hard he was clutching it I knew it must have been causing him pain. Nick held the guns in his lap, running his fingers up their metallic surface, and I felt the danger closer than ever, breathing down my neck.

I could imagine Gale's face, shaking in pity, and murmuring,

"Are you satisfied yet?"

* * *

When we parked against the small alley, the desolated buildings surrounding the red Evoque, my eyes widened alert, and my hands clung to the seatbelt, hoping that somehow they stuck to the people so that we couldn't get out. They had not started a conversation again since Finnick's deep voice invaded the car. Instead, the navigator had blurted out commands as Marvel followed it deeper and deeper into the abandoned area of the city. It was dark outside and the lack of streetlights did not help the case. Nick had been fidgeting with the guns, his leg shaking insistently, while Clove had stopped typing, worrying her bottom lip and staring out at the passing broken down houses.

The doors opened on either side again and Nick came out, pulling the seat forward so Clove could jump out, her cardigan now buttoned till the top, her hands in her pocket. If I had not known better, I would have thought I would never see her this humble again. I waited for Marvel to open the way for me but as the chair slid forward, he stood in front of it, blocking the doorway. His face showed nothing but concern, his eyebrows knitted together and his eyes two whirlpools that were sucking my breath away. His hands came up to touch my cheeks gently and he pulled me forward for a kiss that I was too breathless to return.

"I need you to stay here, Peeta. Don't move no matter what happens, okay, pretty boy?" he mumbled, one of his hands moving to lean on the car, his body balanced, so I couldn't make a dash for it even if I wanted too. My eyes strayed from his face to the package in his hands and I shook my head. I shook my head not because I wanted to go but because I just felt helpless; I didn't like any of the situation unfolding.

"Is this dangerous? Are you going to be okay?" My mouth supplied and one of my hands grabbed the edge of his sleeve when I felt that he was moving away. He looked back at Nick and Clove who were standing in front of the car, frowns on their faces, before staring at me again and leaning forward to place a kiss on my forehead at the exact spot that Cato had kissed me yesterday. I wish the blond were here. I felt safer with him around. He could ease my fears. Marvel felt safer too because I knew Cato would not let him get hurt like I was about to. I couldn't do anything but watch out of the windshield as if this entire phenomenon in my life was a movie, an illusion that my desperate mind had created. I wanted to help him so badly because he seemed lost like Thresh when he first admitted that he didn't want to participate in this.

"I'm going to be just fine, babe. You heard Finnick. We are going to be done sooner than you think," Marvel whispered against my hair, kissing me in the forehead one more time and this one felt more desperate, his lips hot against my drenched forehead and his eyes frantic. The way he was holding me against him took my breath away at the urgency behind his actions and when the door closed behind him, I wanted to bang against it, scream for him to come back.

I held myself back though, becoming small against the leather seats, because I saw the approaching men and a shiver ran down my spine at the way the three mafia children stood tall in front of the car. I noticed the way Nick placed both guns under Marvel's jeans, raising his shirt momentarily to give me a view of his tense back. I wondered if it was a good idea for them not to share the weapons but I trusted their call.

The dealers came in a group of four. They exited the house, standing tall and lonely, in front of the car. It was one floor with wooden walls and canopies that were falling apart. Two of the group were young boys around Marvel's age, both dressed with ragged clothes and hats on their heads. The other two were older and the leader was this fat man with a tattoo on his neck and a red bandana covering his bald head. His eyes were smoldering black, small against the layers of fat, wrinkling his skin. By the track marks on his arms, I knew he was a user himself. I held my breath as they stood in front of the kids.

"Are you lost now, little kids?" the leader uttered in his raspy voice and the sound grated my nerves, scratching against my skin. He pointed one of his chubby fingers towards our direction and the taller boy strolled towards the car, his smirking face never leaving Marvel's. I felt them all tense and I could see Nick assuming a defensive pose. Clove cowered behind Marvel, the other shielding her instinctively.

"We were told you were in a need of a pound of coke," Marvel answered plainly, his voice taking a defensive tone. He did not seem scared even when the other man, standing beside the leader made his move.

"Check them," the raspy voice uttered and from the corner of my eye I saw the lanky boy grab Nick by the clothes, seeking to intimidate, his hands barely making contact before the black-haired boy pulled away violently, punching him in the stomach hard enough to double over. He had moved so fast, his body following his commands, that I knew he had some sort of training in hand-to-hand combat. His eyes had turned a frightening silver and I was terrified for a second because the way he glared down at the attacker reminded me of the stare that those psychopathic killers had on their faces when they were shown in the news. It reminded me of the woman from my dreams. When the other collapsed on the floor, he followed with two kicks and I could tell the other three were furious, now inching forward and cursing at Nick, who had spit on the face of the one struggling and moaning on the floor.

"We'll skip that part," Nick barked in anger, ready to go at the whimpering one again. His body flexed and his hands discarded his jacket on the floor so his inked arms shone in the dull light. I could tell he was enjoying himself by the slight bounce in his walk when he moved closer to the other young boy, staring at his friend in surprise.

I turned to Marvel to see if he was affected but he stared at Nick apathetically, offering a small smirk, before turning back towards the man who was now only inches away, fuming with his hands clenched.

"Who do you fuckers think you are? Think you can come here and act all tough. You punks must be new," the fat one growled under his breath, pulling out a pocket knife and with the click of its flip, Nick had startled into motion only halting when Marvel raised his hand against it. Clove had backed away leaving a circle of space between the two leaders who were staring each other down.

"We want 20, 000 for it. We want it fast and we want it cash," Marvel demanded in a serious tone, ignoring the way they were eying him, their black eyes running down his body lustfully before stopping at his face. The older one licked his lips, motioning for the other one to approach and though Marvel didn't move a muscle, I almost screamed when the second-in-command punched him in the jaw before slamming him against the front of the car.

His bruised cheek rested against the cold metal as the older man held him down with a dirty hand pulling on his curly, soft locks. I saw Marvel's hands lay flat on the surface; he didn't seem scared. I, on the other hand, was shaking like a leaf. I wanted to sob out of frustration when I saw the man holding him down push his body against Marvel's round behind and the look of sheer abomination that I saw pass through the green eyes made me whimper and crouch down further in the car to avoid seeing him in that state. My heart seized in fear and my hands shook against my chest, my breath locking in my throat, chocking me. I wanted to run out and do something but I held myself put knowing that if Nick couldn't, I would just be a burden.

"You don't know who you're messing with, you fuckers!" Nick growled, wanting to inch forward but standing back when the knife was pointed in his direction. The boy who had previously been on the ground had stood up, his face bloody and animalistic, his hand shaking in fury, the small, rusty knife glinting in the light.

I could tell how badly Nick wanted to break his neck to get to Marvel but he stayed put momentarily out of fear that he wouldn't be agile enough, I presumed. His hands were shaking by his side and his eyes had never left Marvel's collapsed form. Clove had screeched at the hit, cursing at them and repeating the same threats that Nick was blurting. Her nails had dug bleeding holes in arm of the other boy who was holding her back by her forearm. I saw the state they were all in, trapped against a corner, and I wondered how Finnick thought this was safe. Where had he gone wrong?

"Check his pockets for a wallet," the leader murmured and the one holding Marvel down, slid his hand inside the jeans and pulled out the black leather wallet I had seen Marvel place in the car. For a moment, I felt Marvel move slightly and then I heard his hysteric laughter echoing from the metallic front of the car and scaring all of the men back a few steps. They turned their beaded eyes towards the sprawled out body of the boy while he kept chuckling in amusement. It sounded evil and it made me forget for a second how nice he actually was and how people called him a sweetheart. He seemed deadly.

"Are you trying to..._rob_ me?" he blurted in amusement at the same time that the eyes of the one opening the wallet widened comically, his lips shaking in stuttering. I think for the first time he became aware of how high up in the mafia Marvel actually was.

"Sir, we have a pro—" the boy muttered, stretching the wallet to the leader with shaking hands at the same time that the one holding the curly-haired boy down caught a glimpse of the two guns, rising the shirt slowly, his eyes panicking at the sight of the two black revolvers, and mumbling,

"Sir, he is armed—"

Before he could finish the sentence, I heard the sickly crack of his knee echo into the night, as Marvel kicked his shin with all his might, turning around to catch him off guard. Clove elbowed the distracted man in the stomach, hitting him with the heel of her hand up his nose and I shrunk back at the way he screamed, holding his broken nose, bent out of angle and covered in blood. They were all scrambling to understand how they lost their advantage but now Marvel had both guns out, pointed in different directions, a satisfied look on his face.

I couldn't help thinking he had let things slide this way. He could have brought out the gun since the beginning to gain the upper hand but he liked the shock on their face, the color draining in fear, making them look ghastly, and the eyes popping out of their skulls morbidly. He liked that now he could have a reason to get back at them for touching him that way. He enjoyed the tickling sensation of the bruise on his jaw. I saw a completely different boy than the innocent one who cuddled in hoodies and giggled when he was drunk. Now, he was standing in the middle in a complete power pose, holding his chest high, the hidden muscles flexing with his shirt.

I saw the all the men back away, coming together again, while Nick joined Clove's side, whispering to her in hushed whispers as they both looked at Marvel nervously. I could tell they were worried about the smirk in his face. They were anxious about how his hands were not even shaking with the guns and his tongue continually wet his lips.

"We got off on the wrong foot. Let's do this again. I'm Marvel. The Solntsevskaya has sent me. Do you have that 20, 000 per chance?" Marvel murmured in a polite, innocent tone, pouting his lips. His eyes remained twinkling and he didn't achieve that same look he had when he begged Cato to come with him to the lake or when he wanted to persuade Haymitch to let him sleep at Clove's. This one was dangerous. He wasn't begging. He was demanding. He was mad because he wasn't getting his way and I would soon see how hardcore his temper tantrums could be when he truly felt like he had been treated unfairly.

"We weren't told of your arrival," the second-in-command started saying as an excuse while the leader kept glaring in disapproval. He would not submit and I thought that was the wrong move when dealing with someone as irresponsible as an eighteen year old and as deadly as the son of the Bratva Don.

"We will not give you anything, you little bitch. Get the fuck out of here!" I heard the fat one murmur and I saw the mock confusion pass through Marvel's face. He moved towards the car and I thought he would get in, obey their rules against all odds, but he walked passed my door where I was staring in pleading and towards the trunk. When he came back out he was holding that bottle of Absolut we had bought earlier and I felt Nick inch towards him, hands raised in peace before Clove stopped him once again, shaking her head and biting her lip in nervousness. Glimmer's stern warning from the cafeteria replayed in my head.

"Can I at least give you a little present? Something to remember me by," Marvel muttered in a baby voice, approaching the men who inched back with every step the shorter one took. The bottle was still in his hand while the other one held the remaining pistol. I assumed he had dropped one of them in the trunk, seeing that there was no need.

Just when I thought he was going to actually give them the bottle, he smashed it against the house, the shards flying everywhere. The scene brought a sense of déjà vu only this time Nick and Clove weren't laughing. They were somber and frozen on the spot. This time he wasn't in the school cafeteria, a teenage boy breaking glasses. He was out on the street, a criminal with a gun in his hand. This time he wasn't going to get over it. This time he didn't have Cato to hold him close and whisper in his ear. This time he was lost in his insanity. He was angry and he was lethal.

I saw the hesitation pass once through his green eyes, slow and deliberate, before he aimed at the remains of the bottle, the pieces of it cracking ominously as the bullet passed through them, the friction lighting the alcohol on fire. I heard the men screaming until their lungs gave out, the younger ones hurrying to step on the flame but it rode up the wood, devouring the roof and there was no hope of rescue. The fire burned beautifully against the dark sky, the smoke rising in the air and covering the shining stars. I had never seen anything more flammable that the falling apart base and I didn't understand why until I heard what was coming out of his fat lips.

"That's a Meth lab, you fucker. You son of bitch! I will kill you, you whore. I will rape your little body until you bleed from the inside out! Mark my words, puta!" The screams kept going and I saw the way Marvel's eyes darkened against the flames reflecting in them, at the name-calling. His lips snarled viciously and he raised his gun again this time with no time to stop, shooting the man in the kneecap with amazing precision, causing him to collapse on the ground, screaming with all his might, threatening murder.

The sound of the second gunshot made my heart stop, awaking Nick as he sprinted to the other boy, screaming in Russian for him to stop. I saw the black-haired one dragging the curly-haired boy backwards now, holding him tight against his chest while the other squirmed, wanting to get free. There were screams everywhere and suddenly the car felt smaller, the air hotter and the oxygen missing. I thought I was going to faint but the sound of Marvel's voice hitting my ears without the glass in between woke me up and I hurried to get out, move past the seats to become a player not just a spectator. I couldn't stand the way his voice had started to become raspy from the yelling. It reminded me of that other man and he would never be like that.

I wished to help him and though my body was screaming at the danger, shaking and disobeying my orders, my heart was reaching out for him. I placed my hands on his shaking face, and I felt his eyes turn to mine, resting on my quivering bottom lip. His shoulders slumped in relief. He stopped moving, his body stilling enough for Nick to let go and I hugged him against me, waiting for his arms to wrap around me again when he came back to his senses.

The men were still screaming and the noises were still going but all I could hear was the incredible rhythm he had gotten his heart in and the way his lungs shook against the effort of holding his frustration back. It took one word to come out of my mouth, 'enough', for him to grasp me against his form, his hands holding me against him as his face hid my neck, his apologies falling on my ear like prayers. His body felt hot and I could sense how violently his hands were trembling as they trailed through my back. He wasn't looking at me and I was glad because I was scared I would see in his eyes that murderous light. I couldn't have him mix in my dreams with the woman who smiled at me gently before detaching my head from my body. He was my angel. He couldn't become my nightmare; I wouldn't be able to handle it.

"Take me home," I whispered against his cheek, kissing it lightly and smiling against his soft skin. I felt the heated kiss he placed on my neck, his trembling lips marking my jugular, before he pulled apart and this time I saw nothing but sadness and regret drowning in those green seas. I knew he wasn't like that and watching him battle his own conscience only proved to myself that I could be with him though my heart couldn't stand anymore confrontations.

I noticed that Clove and Nick had already taken the back seats when I walked around the passenger one, giving Marvel one last smile, which he attempted valiantly to return. As we drove away from the burning fire, the wood crackling and the air smelling toxic, I decided to not look at it in the rear-view mirror, instead I stared side-ways at the way Marvel shifted between reality and thoughts, his eyes switching shades of green.

The two in the back had been dead quiet and when I turned towards Clove, she didn't shoot me a glare at my actions. She just stared in my eyes and for the first time I actually believed she was the one that watched out for Marvel the most, even though Finnick had saved his life and Cato constantly doted over him when he stumbled. She watched out for him above all the others and that was why now she was glaring at me in the way that said if I hurt him, she would cut my guts out.

It was getting close to nine and my eyes were protesting against the need to be alert when all I could hear was the purring of the car. The street was dark and the car had no lights of its own turned on inside. Conversation had not struck in a while and I thought that was the end of the most eventful night of my life. I thought I would be snuggled asleep soon, too exhausted to even dream. The thought of rest had made the situation worse.

My eyes only shot open when I noticed the lights of the car reflecting against the red sign on the side of the street. I jumped awake, looking around to see if Marvel noticed but he was going forward same speed and I mumbled in my half-asleep state when his eyes didn't move an inch to glance side-ways. He wasn't in the state to be able to drive safely.

"Marv, this is an one-way road. Did you miss the sign?" I asked gingerly and I felt Nick fidget in his seat, alerting me of his awareness. He was paying attention now and I saw the green eyes of the driver widen momentarily before the car halted to a stop.

"Is it? Thanks, babe," he muttered, looking back, annoyed at himself, trying to reverse into the highway we just entered from. We had clearly taken the wrong exit and I moved towards the navigator to turn it on. At the very least we needed her directions if we didn't want to get lost in the woods like Marvel was lost in his mind.

I looked back with him once before I stared forward again in horror at the car coming towards us too fast to be avoided. I panicked, screaming. Clove joined me and Marvel had turned around now but by the looks of it the driver of the truck had noticed too late and he wouldn't be able to make a stop. I could feel my fluttering heart, a million butterflies being released in my chest and for a second, I thought I would die. I would definitely die. I saw pictures flash through my brain. I saw that little boy who I always seemed to see, the one who glared at the world's injustice, the one with the bruises everywhere. I heard her piercing voice:

_"This is why you and your father need to die."_

I was dying then. I couldn't breath. My chest felt tight, the seatbelt suffocating me. I shut out Clove's insistent screaming and Nick's furious instructions. I heard nothing—silence. I saw the lights coming closer and my vision blurred for a second, the front of the car merging into many different shapes. My ears only came back, my consciousness not letting me go, when I heard the engine roar to life and the car spurred forward. I jumped on the driver's side, pushing the steering wheel towards the side of the road, urging Marvel to drive ahead and at the last second, the car skid forward running on the side and jumping into the ditch. I flew forward and I felt Marvel hold me back in my seat, his touch keeping my heart from exploding out of my chest. My eyes closed and I clung to my seat for a second time, hearing the screams. It was so loud and then there was silence.

I opened my eyes to see the car stopped and turned off, the engine having exhausted itself. The airbags hadn't exploded which meant the machine was still holding well, none of the front was damaged; making me believe we had landed well. I hadn't felt any impact from the car coming towards us and one glimpse at the back told me we had not been touched. We had only jumped a few feat away, the tires screeching against the impact but holding strong like Range Rovers were manufactured to do. Marvel was in shock, staring ahead at the darkness, the plants growing as high as the car itself. I turned around to see the pale faces of Nick and Clove who had curled up in their seats in devastated expressions. More silence.

And then there was screaming. Nick was repeatedly screaming like an alarm clock. I couldn't tell if he was being serious because it sounded so comical yet he wasn't stopping. Clove was whining in Russian like an angry hag and I heard Marvel curse, slap his hand against the steering wheel in anger before undoing his seatbelt.

"Fuck my life! I'm done," he muttered furious, slamming the driver's door shut and moving around to check the damage once before sitting himself against the wheels with his hands in his head. I scrambled with my seatbelt, turning around annoyed at the two who were continuing their melodramatic reactions.

"Shut up! Jesus. We're fine. The car's fine. Accidents happen. Lord," I snapped at their gaping mouths, shushing them up and feeling that empowering sense of responsibility activate my adrenaline. I jumped after Marvel, studying the bumper to only see a few scratches on my way to his broken form. I kneeled in front of him, touching his feet like that first time he was in this state back in Haymitch's apartment. His eyes moved to mine and they were lost. His body language was screaming that he needed help. He needed Cato but all he had was me and I would prove to him that I could be his Cato. I could do what the blond did for me yesterday. I could adopt that persona because he seemed so small and vulnerable.

"It's alright, Marv. Nothing happened, sweetheart. Everyone's okay. Don't be upset, pretty boy. Frowning doesn't suit you," I murmured lightly, sitting next to him and pulling him into a hug. I felt his hands move from their clutched position in his lap and he looked towards me, sighing once.

"Can you drive us back?" He asked, his eyes becoming child-like, so different from the ones he showed those men, his lips pouting. I couldn't refuse the offer because I could drive and because it was a chance for me to step up. I could get him out of this situation while testing the car, which was a bonus. I stared at his dejected face, kissing his nose sweetly before murmuring against his lips,

"Alright. If you stand up with me now and get back in."

When I entered the driver seat I could feel their stares on my back but I didn't let that faze me because he was leaning in the passenger seat, lax against it, his smile finally finding his way back to his lips. His head was lolling sideways in an adorable manner and I had to keep track of how fast he transformed from the child to the criminal. I was falling too hard, getting to tied up.

The car drove forward and the navigator guided me back into the dorm, while I heard his light snoring from the passenger seat and the whispers in the back seats, keeping me alert. I knew when his eyes opened, clear and big, the moment I shook him gently, I had earned his trust because he looked at the dorm grinning in the way that told me I had not disappointed him in whatever he had been testing.

* * *

When I entered my room that night, sighing against the empty space and throwing my body against the bed, I forbid myself from thinking about the events that had happened in that small car. I would not have nightmares tonight and I would not fall asleep crying because there was nothing to cry about. This time I felt happy and that was that.

The knock woke me up from my partial daze and I saw him enter gingerly, his hands playing with his shirt, sitting on my bed. His eyes had a distant look that turned nervously towards me, making me sit up alert against the fatigue. He was flustered red and he didn't greet me properly, stuttering out a couple of sentences. He made to leave once before stopping himself at the door and now I was really curious at what had made him so wary.

I looked up in surprise because I had never seen him this on the spot. He loved the spotlight; he fed off the attention, handling it with a grace that not many popular kids back home had. This time though he was different and when he started talking I understood why. He was speaking about his feelings, the emotions deeper that the surface. He was opening up to me about what he never got complimented for because people showered him in attention for his physical attributes not his emotional ones. He looked into my eyes and I placed my hand on his thigh to urge him on. My touch released all that pent up anger; the words waterfalled from his mouth, showering me with the most affection I've had since the day I opened my eyes to light:

"Umm—I—Clove asked me why you were special and I couldn't answer for some time but now I can and I thought maybe you wanted to know.

In a way, you remind me of Cato back when I hadn't fucked him up. You are sweet and innocent, playful like he was. So I feel like being closer to you, I can get a second chance at doing things right. Because I love him but I can't be with him without breaking him.

In another way, you remind me of myself because there is something there—and maybe I am crazy—but I know you wake up at night screaming. I know that look because I've had it and I'm rambling but I couldn't fix my life and if I can help you then I can save myself too.

I guess what I'm trying to say is you are my escape from the guilt that constantly makes me miserable. You are special and you are so very different from Finnick. I like you, Peeta."

And then there was no air to breathe because his lips had stolen it all.


	15. A Blessing in Disguise

_**Previously on "Where the Sun Sets Early":**_

_Marvel and Peeta decide to make their affair more official when Marvel introduces Peeta to the concept of exclusive fuckbuddies. Though Peeta knows at heart that he wants more than the Black Widow can give him, he reluctantly agrees on the basis of enjoying Marvel and all the privileges he offers before moving on to somebody else. In an attempt to prevent the possible relationship, Cato kisses Peeta to prove that he is not capable of withholding a faithful affair before warning him that he would not allow Peeta to take his ex-boyfriend away from him, repeatedly flaunting his vicinity to Marvel to further distance Peeta from the idea. _

_The next day during lunch, Peeta meets Nick, soccer team captain and fellow mafia child, that would accompany him, Clove and Marvel in their trip to Boston, with the purpose of purchasing alcohol for upcoming event, the Rubik's Cube Dance. Clove reveals to the table that Peeta and Cato have kissed much to Marvel's annoyance. An awkward situation is broken by Marvel's tantrum in which he breaks a glass and curses out an amused Nick. The discovery leaves Marvel distant from both Cato and Peeta, with the latter not knowing about the status of their 'relationship'._

_Back in the room, Peeta confronts Thresh about his addiction to heroine and other hard drugs, learning about Thresh being HIV positive and the children being assigned quick delivery tasks to other drug dealers. When push comes to shove, Thresh refuses to deliver the package of cocaine, apprehensive from his past experiences, which leads Cato and Marvel to argue about its eventual fate, Marvel's infatuation with Finnick irritating the situation. Peeta apologizes to Gale in hopes of getting his friend back and continuously texts him without receiving replies, as the state of his mind deteriorates and he stars having nightmares of a murderous woman. _

_Marvel picks up Peeta the next day and the two are back on more than speaking terms, as Peeta trades Cato's orientation shirt for Marvel's, solidifying their bond. On the way back from Boston, alcohol in the trunk, the mafia kids make a pit stop to deliver the package to a gang of inexperienced meth dealers. Ignorant of the kids' identities, the dealers treat the situation forcefully, fueling Marvel into shooting the leader and setting the lab on fire. As they seek to return to the dorm, the car gets into a possible accident and drives of the side of the road to avoid collision. Peeta takes over and drives the rest home as Marvel seems spent from the day events. _

_Upon returning, Peeta gets an unexpected visit from Marvel who confesses the reasons behind his fixation with the other, speaking about the similarities between Peeta, Marvel and Cato and the differences between Peeta and Finnick. He admits to 'liking' the other and follows with a kiss…_

* * *

**Chapter 13: A Blessing in Disguise**

_Peeta's POV (Thursday)_

I had yet to regain my composure, his words shattering all my thoughts as they kept repeating in my head constantly, sending tremors through my body. For the first time since I had met them, one was showing me actual emotion—he was letting me know that I wasn't the only one invested. It felt liberating to not feel like the obsessed stalker, wanting to know everything about their lives whilst they tried to pull away in disgust. It felt amazing to be compared to both of them because it gave me that confidence I thought never existed inside me.

I practically worshipped them, admitting it through gritted teeth and a bruised heart. I saw them above all others and by equaling me to them, Marvel had extended a hand so I could climb up with them on the pedestal. He had helped me realize that maybe our situations weren't really different. He had chased away the evil woman from the nightmares that was waiting patiently for me to close my eyes.

I felt almost safe and my lips formed into a smile against his soft, thick ones as he continued to gently nibble on my bottom one and prod the slit between them with his pink tongue. I timidly opened my mouth against his ministrations and his hands slid up my thighs to pull me into his lap roughly, our chests touching and our groins swelling against our pants in that blissful friction that had me panting in surprise at the change in position. I didn't mind being submissive when it came to him. I didn't mind purring and mewling in his lap as he attacked my neck and touched my groin.

I was taller than him at the moment, the boost from sitting on top of him helping our height difference. Having him look up to me with green orbs, his pupils dark and inviting, had my heart racing against his hoodie, the one I refused to take off, the one I would sleep in tonight and many nights to come. My hands traced his strong jaw as his wrapped around my frame completely, clutching me closer to his chest possessively. He was smiling giddily at me, smirking lightly when I made a move to approach him, my lips parting and his tongue wetting his in response.

The kiss was soft and graceful, our tongues playing tag with each other, our noses brushing occasionally as we alternated sides, nipping and teasing, chuckles and pants combining with the occasional sloppy slurp that had me blushing intensely against his face. His hands slid down my tensing thighs, the muscles fit from my constant soccer practices, as he urged me to wrap my legs around his waist, my shy behind settling on top of his restrained bulge. I was apprehensive at the position, gulping and hesitating, but he moaned at it, encouraging me with his small sounds, his eyes lidding and his pupils looking at me through his lashes, the emerald color hiding in the dark for me to discover.

There was no room for talking because we were both eager to explore as much as possible in the small amount of time given that none of his inhibitor friends were around. Thresh would come back to the room soon and I would have to bid him farewell, crossing my fingers for our next encounter and reluctantly enjoying the small signs of affection he would give me during the day when Cato constantly kissed his rosy cheeks and Clove frequently touched his tight ass, clinging on his arm. If I had more courage, I would try to fight them off not by pouting and sulking, but by using my own leeching abilities to take him back—he belonged to me.

My thoughts silenced as my sweaty back hit the bed and only then did I noticed he had picked me up into his sturdy chest, laying me on the soft comforters of my sanctuary, his frame crawling on top of me, my legs still tight against his waist, in fear of him leaving me unsatisfied. I had been reserved the previous times because I felt insecure. How could I satisfy him, gorgeous and perfect, with my lanky, normal body? He was a sex-god and I, a mere, average human, kneeling before his mouth-watering statues and praying for the strength and libido to match him. That day though, he had given me what I most wished for and I sought to show him that I could fight the battles in my mind some other time, letting my craving guide my actions with him. It was dangerous and irrational but it was exhilarating and I wanted it badly.

My lungs had given up on the idea of breathing and all the air sustaining me was the one he breathed into my mouth, my tongue sensing his presence on it, the soft-baby smell invading my nostrils and calming my raging thoughts like a depressant. Whenever he attempted to move away, my hands dragged him back, my nails clutching his shirt, scraping the skin below it, my back arching from the bed to get more contact. He joined me in my aggressive frenzy, his mouth ferocious against my swollen, bruised lips, one of his hands in my hair, pulling my head back against my will to continue kissing so he could suck on my neck, eliciting sweet, little pants from my fogged up brain.

"How far…" He groaned against my neck as I bucked violently against him, rising off the bed to attach to his lithe body, trembling in effort, his other hand supporting me, his fingers clutching my tender ass through the rough material of the jeans. He bit my neck, his tongue sending sparks down my lifted spine when it made contact with my shivering skin. "How far are you willing to go?"

I smiled against his shoulder blade as his mouth continued its work down my throat, his fingers pulling the collar of my shirt, stretching it down my chest, the material whining in protest. I found it sweet that he was being patient especially considering how big he had grown, filling the front of his pants and humping against me when I purposely rubbed against him. I didn't know how to answer his question because I was going solely on my intuition, on that burning desire racking my groin and making my cheeks flush—my mouth dry, seeking his saliva.

My lips formed into a rare smirk before asking the next question, my hands sliding down the middle of our moving bodies, raising his shirt to reveal his flexed abdomen, his pants riding low, the light trail of hair glistening in sweat. I knew I was teasing him but I couldn't help the feeling of empowerment that being in control of his emotions gave me. My hands slid the shirt all the way up his shoulders and he pulled back to give me a flirtatious smirk as he flung it over his head, his torso glorified in front of my lusty eyes, every muscle lean below his tan skin, undulating subtly with every move he made. He was better than those magazines I hid under my mattress, soiling their pages with my release, my hand furiously tugging on my member. He was warm and smooth, alive against my roaming hands, shamelessly tracing the contours of his body while he resumed his exploration of mine. His lips tugged on one of my perk nipples, dragging a husky mewl out of my bit lips, my eyes closing tightly in embarrassment, my shaky hands finding his soft curls as I kept his head attached to my skin, feeling him smirk against my chest, his tongue flicking to tease me some more. I didn't know when he had raised the hoodie up to my chest but I didn't care because he could make me forget everything.

My balls tightened at the attention, the new sensations going straight to my groin as it rubbed violently against the rough material of my underwear and his hard length. I had to distract him because I was starting to lose control, my head diving into the pillow behind me, sweat running down my brow, tickling my eyelashes, saliva dripping of the corner of my mouth. I was going to explode in my pants if he didn't halt and I shocked him into freezing, his teeth stopping their torture of my nipples, his hand cupping me motionlessly on top of my layers. "Would you fuck me?"

I saw the way he shifted his member in his pants to accommodate the extra swelling, his face cringing a little at the adjustment, his mouth sliding upwards to settle on my neck again, the cold air, hitting my pink, wet nipples. He growled aggressively, biting down on my neck hard enough to make me whine in pain, his teeth scraping the delicate spots of my marked neck. His body humped me against the bed, trapping me between his solid frame and the contrasting soft blankets, his fingers pulling violently down on my pants, yanking them half-way down my ass though the belt was still in place, fighting back the intrusion.

"You're making me lose control, little virgin. That's dangerous," He whispered huskily against my ear, his teeth scraping my earlobe and I hugged him closer, feeling his back muscles under my finger tips and cherishing his gasps against my face as I reached for the waistband of his tight boxers, my digits playing with the elastic band lightly.

I wanted him to answer my question out loud though I knew he was willing to fuck anything whether they were girls or boys, old or young, single or taken. I wanted him to make me feel special again like he had when we started. I couldn't continue to moan wantonly for his ears and writhe seductively under his body if he was looking at me with that blasé attitude he offered everyone else.

"I…" I hesitated, my voice dying in my throat as he placed an affectionate kiss were my pulse was banging against my veins for his sensitive lips to feel. He hummed for me to continue and I was about to open my mouth a second time, trying to express my muddled thoughts when the phone shrilled in his pocket, vibrating annoyingly and filling the silent room with more than erotic moans and insistent shuffling. I heard the groan that escaped his throat, as he made no move to pick it up, opting for hear the repetitive ringtone over and over again.

"Ignore it," He mumbled irritated, as his lips moved up the length of my neck to settle on my cheeks. My hands moved for his pocket much like he had done that first time I had felt the crippling, sexual tension envelop our interactions, standing in the middle of the quad not so long ago. He shook his head in protest, wriggling his jeans away from me but my hand had already made contact with the metallic, sleek surface of the iPhone, palming its now silent self. I could sense his pout and I was going to smirk but the satisfaction fell off my face when I noticed his name on the screen, the voicemail icon flashing dangerously. My breath picked up, remembering Gale's angry message that time I hadn't picked up, that time I had ruined our friendship. My gut told me I would be witnessing another quarrel between the two much similar to the one in the car. Finnick did not like to be ignored.

"Throw it out of the window?" Marvel suggested, chuckling mirthfully because he had yet to discover who was calling for his attention. I took a deep breath, biting the side of my lip and kissing his cheek once, making him pull away confused, having felt my dying passion.

"It's Finnick. You should pick this up—" I started to murmur, trying to keep my calm while he sat up, his face distressed, his mouth cursing frequently in a chant. My finger tapped against the touchscreen surface, his voicemail shutting Marvel up permanently and making me want to hide inside my bed in fear, my face breaking in terror while his cringed in hurt.

"Pick up the phone, you little shit. It's four am in the morning where I'm at right now and you're playing games with me? Selfish brat. Call me. Now."

"Fuck. He's mad," Marvel muttered under his breath lightly, his hands covering his face in an exasperated expression, his body pushing mine lightly sideways so he lay next to me on the bed, both of us facing the ceiling with frozen expressions, our breathing slowing down, my hand gently moving to clutch his, my lips laying a shy kiss on his naked shoulder. Our interactions felt intimate. It felt like a relationship though I wouldn't really know what that was like. I was basing all my assumptions on those chick-flics I watched as a guilty pleasure while Gale giggled, making me blush.

"_That_'s…an understatement. You should call him back, I think…" I murmured lightly, my fingers tracing circles in his sweaty palms. I could tell he was scared and I didn't know how to ease his fears, his eyes darting across the room in worry, his fingers clutching the phone against his stomach. He nodded at my statement and I saw the way he exhaled loudly before calling back, the beeping audible enough for my ears even though he did not place in on loudspeaker, the touchscreen patting his ear. It rang four times, painfully loud as my heart beat against my chest faster than his.

"Finnick—" Marvel had time to say before the other's booming voice interrupted him, the accent much stronger—clearly French despite his probable many years with the Russians—his tone insulting and irritated. I saw the way Marvel's bottom lip quivered when he pouted. I clung to him tighter, my face resting on his arm, my eyes keeping track of his expressions.

"_Shut_ up. How can you do this to me, you moron? I am so fucking pissed that I can barely contain myself from flying over there and beating your stubborn ass. _Where _is the call? Why can't you follow _simple_ instructions? Why?"

"I forgot? Don't be upset—" Marvel muttered back, his voice small and his tone clearly uncertain. He had not forgotten; he just didn't want to have the conversation, putting it off until it was inevitable. I assumed he feared telling the older man about how the situation had deteriorated into a gunshot and a blazing meth lab. I could tell the interruptions were getting to the boy next to me because each time he was cut off, his face scrunched up more in anger, his hand clutching against mine.

"You forgot?! You—Don't you dare teach me to when to be upset. I'm not upset—I'm furious. I am also sick and tired of explaining to your father your constant failures. I just don't understand why you insist on making me look bad," Finnick yelled on the other side, his tone angry and his words biting, making Marvel flinch at the mention of his father and whimper at the word 'failure' so low that I was certain it escaped the older man. I caught it though and it broke my heart, my body inching closer to his in support, my other hand lying on his beating chest.

"It's always about you, isn't it, Finnick? You're just angry because my father won't let you lick his ass as much as before," Marvel choked out, the rage breaking his voice, his eyes squinted against the white ceiling. I clutched his arm when his language got filthy, shaking my head in worry while he ignored me, pursing his lips.

"You will hold your tongue when you speak to me, child," Finnick stated coldly, seemingly unaffected by the insult, his tone icy and demeaning. The last word had Marvel jumping up on the bed and I knew immediately that the stakes had increased. I hurried to reach for him, my hand sliding on his back in comfort, rubbing his tense muscles as his voice raised in a raspy tone, his frame shaking.

"I'm not a fucking child! Stop treating me like one, you asshole."

"I will stop when you grow up enough to see that you can't do whatever you want like a spoiled brat. Until then, wipe the snot on your sleeve and follow my orders," The older man stated, his anger held behind his distant front, his volume never rising to match Marvel's raging one. The air of superiority that seemed to flow from the phone had me disgusted and I was certain it was the main reason behind the way Marvel rocked back and forth, his knees on his chest, his fingers white against the iPhone.

"You have _no _authority over me. You can't treat me like this," Marvel whispered raggedly and I moved instinctually to hug him from the back because he seemed so lost and broken. He was trembling in my arms as my face leaned against his soft skin, laying a kiss on top of his spine. I was trying my best to hold back the confrontation though I knew I was powerless. In Marvel's mind Finnick came first and that was the end of the story.

"I have _every _authority over you and I will treat you like I see fit, seeing as I bare the brunt of all your little stunts while you giggle with your friends. You _will_ listen to me and you will _like_ it or you'll find your ass alone." I didn't miss the flinch that shook Marvel's frame at the uncalled for threat, my arms tightening against his chest at the sign of weakness while he pulled the phone away to whine in frustration, his palm on his forehead, the device still on and silent in his lap. He was hurting.

"I didn't do anything to deserve this. I followed your—" He muttered, trying to ease his voice into a calmer state with much effort, his tone venomous and his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip until it was fully bleeding on his chin. His eyes were livid, the green a bright chartreuse, sizzling in uncollected anger.

"No, you didn't!" Finnick interrupted again, his voice finally raising a notch to make his tone seem intimidating enough to cause me to squint my eyes in fear. It was the last straw before the tension in the room suffocated my lungs—I held my breath, grasping his frame against my beating heart.

"Stop _fucking_ interrupting me, you cunt!" Marvel exploded brutally after his reply, screaming his lungs out and pushing me off him as he shuffled to get up and pace on the floor, kicking at the same drawers that Thresh had punched when he decided he wouldn't deliver, starting the mess we were in. I heard the hesitation on the other side, as Finnick didn't reply immediately. I wondered about how mad he was at Marvel's rude answer but I was surprised to note he had gone back to his distant self.

"Don't raise your voice and don't use those words. Speak like an adult if you want to be taken seriously," Came the other man's polite reply and it had me freezing in shock. Marvel stopped his motions, fidgeting with everything that crossed his path, leaning on the wall to regain his train of thought. He looked taken off-guard but he didn't miss the condescending tone so he went after that, fearing that he would be defenseless if he stopped attacking. It was too late to drag him back into a civilized debate—Finnick had pushed him too hard.

"Like an adult?! You are the one… _insulting_ me every other sentence, making me feel like utter shit, and _I_ need to be mature about this? You know what, Finnick, fuck you!" The boy in front of me uttered brokenly, clutching his curly hair and looking at the ground in disdain. I inched towards the edge of the bed, wanting to go to him again, hug him in my arms and tell him that Finnick wasn't everything, that the other man was being mean, hurting him on purpose. I wanted to ease his consciousness but I knew that Finnick had saved Marvel's life at some point—he knew what he was talking about. I was torn and without a plan.

"You're being a child again. I don't have time for this." The tone dropped and the line kept beeping on the phone eerily while Marvel stared at it in shock, his mouth gaped open.

"Marv—" I started to whisper, my hands rose in peace, my feet moving towards his silent self. I wrapped him in my arms but he didn't return it, his glare settled on the phone. I was certain he would have thrown it against the wall if he didn't need to to get back at the aggressor. I knew he would not be able to leave it at that, allow the tension to uncoil and the anger to subside. He wanted blood, his shaking frame screaming for violence and his clutched hands begging for contact.

"That little bitch. I fucking hate him." He gently pushed me back, rejecting my comfort before slamming the door shut and stomping to his room, phone in ear. I gulped, letting myself sit on the floor in fatigue. It was late at night and the day had been long enough. I had been a fool to think that I could just sleep it off peacefully.

When you lived in Capitol, something was always happening, fast-paced and needing everyone's full attention. I sighed, nodding to myself, before getting up and going outside, heading for his room. I knew I needed more help.

* * *

My breath left my mouth and my lungs refused to drag in some more oxygen to sustain my brain, the one ordering my body to commit suicide if that were the only way to stop the images and thoughts running through my frontal cortex. My back had slammed against the closed door as my body rammed into the wooden material in fear, trying uselessly to escape, my thoughts not rational enough to try the handle. I wanted to stare away but I couldn't and so they were both facing me, the glare on his eyes shattered devastatingly by the utter humiliation reddening his face and shaking his body in rage. I wanted to cry in frustration and simultaneously gag in disgust.

"Get out! Get the fuck out!" Cato screamed in rage, his voice bellowing in the small room, hot with tension and musky with the essence of sex. I swallowed the bile in my throat and my tears of horror. I would follow his advice without hesitation if I could get my body to move from its frozen position. I cringed against the door, nodding in fear as he stomped towards me aggressively, making me whimper in submission. I was terrified because he hated being blackmailed and I just had stumbled upon the pot of gold when it came to blackmailing.

I knew I should have knocked when I stood in front of his door, anxious to get his help and fearful of his absence. Nevertheless, I was too concentrated on the objects breaking from inside of Marvel's room as he screamed in Russian at what I assumed was the phone to reason with my mind. I lowered the handle, sneaking inside the cavern of safety, my eyes still staring worriedly at the other's door before glancing in front of me and widening in surprise.

"You didn't lock the door?!" Came a high-pitched screech, which I only identified as Gianna when I saw her luscious, fiery locks clutched in one of Cato's hands as his frame flinched violently awake from its relaxed position, leaning on the wall, his eyes closed and his lips parted in soft pants. I blanched, my throat tightening.

My panicked eyes slid down his slick, naked fit torso, eyeing his strong abs, flexing in motion before noticing that hadn't it been for Gianna's oh-so-convenient placement, kneeling in front of him, her startled back facing me, I would have gotten a good glimpse of his hairless crotch and his stiffened member. I looked away, trying to avoid his terrorized expression. I didn't know who was the most frightened at the moment.

His dark colored, cotton sweatpants were on the puddled on his bare feet, the only attire he had on, his underwear missing. Gianna on the other hand was completely naked, her plump, pale ass in front of my squinting eyes. She had a blindfold on, covering her turquoise eyes, which would be shocked to see me, and the sight of it made the whole event more disturbing to my innocent self. It looked like some find of sadomasochistic ritual, the lights dull and the atmosphere eerily silent, and I felt as if I had just stumbled in the secret meeting of an extremely dangerous cult and they were staring at my uninvited presence with a 'you have to die now' expression that had me peeing my pants.

"Fuck. Shit. Fuck," He kept cursing, his tone getting angrier with every filthy word escaping his mouth, his shaking hands stumbling to grab the edge of his sweatpants and pull them up to cover his evidence from my curious stare. As much as I tried to avoid it, I caught a full picture of his hard length, still wet with saliva and precum, the purple top glistening in the lights, making me lick my lips reflexively as he shoved it under the cotton, willing it to deflate. When he was fully covered, he jumped over the discarded, female clothes on the floor, trudging towards my small frame, his biceps flexing in intimidation, his eyes lethal and dark. I whimpered again.

"Is it Marvel?" Gianna questioned in panic, her tone screechy and scared, as she fidgeted with the dark blindfold, finally squinting against the sudden light to stare behind her, standing up, her breasts bouncing with the movement, her nipples sharp. I gagged audibly, shutting my eyes and shaking my head, and she froze at spotting my presence, her hands flying to cover up her boobs and her crotch as she squealed my name, cringing in herself.

I didn't have time to further analyze her curvy, freckled body because Cato had slammed his hand on the door next to my ear and I flinched away, trapped in his form and looking at his furious eyes, the embers of humiliation still floating in them passively. I gulped, biting my lip and taking a deep breath in, wanting to explain my reasons for coming before he interrupted me with a dark tone, threatening the core of my body, making my arms shiver pathetically.

"If you ever tell anyone about this, _ever_, because I will know when you've opened that stuttering mouth of yours—If this ever gets out there I will _destroy_ you. I promise you. I will make you regret the decision so much that you will be knocking on the door of your own room. Do you understand, blondie?" He growled angrily in my ear, his face so close to my shaky, shallow breaths, one of his hands moving to grasp my hair harshly and pull my face side-ways for his gruff tone to hit my exposed, marked neck. I could smell the alcohol on him, strong and suffocating, and I was certain he could smell my fear as I whimpered, nodding hysterically, needing him to move away and let me go. My mind was flashing images that I couldn't recognize, the strong stench having triggered my anxiety, my heart beating about frantically against my chest, skipping a beat here and there. I should have never come in to ask for help.

"Cato, let him be. It was bound to get out at some point. You're terrifying him—he's shaking!" Gianna murmured gingerly, her tone starting out fatigued and getting more concerned as she approached us, her subdued eyes entering my line of sight as she analyzed the situation.

She was wearing one of his shirts to cover her naked form, her hands clutching the material down her full thighs and I realized soon enough why Cato had growled menacingly when he had seen her frame, his eyes narrowing in rage and his mouth snarling in her direction, making her flinch and submit. It was the same plain t-shirt Marvel had put on his frame when he had cuddled in Cato's bed, drunk and adorable, staring at his protector with an affectionate expression. It was the wrong choice and I closed my eyes when he slammed his hand on the wooden door again, making us both bristle.

"This will not get out. Who the fuck told you to touch my shit, you bitch? You know what, get out. Just leave already before I tear that shirt off your stinking body," He bellowed angrily, his form trembling as much as hers though for different reasons. She stepped back, pouting in hurt, her eyes going glassy as he continued to usher her out, kicking her in the street like a street dog. I remembered the first day I saw them in the same room, bantering in the cafeteria as he held the fluffy dog in his hands. I had sensed the dominant attitude he exuded with her, demeaning her and calling her names. I was at a loss on why she kept coming back. I didn't understand.

"You fucker. I don't deserve this. I'm done putting up with your temper. This is the reason nobody wants to be with you, you brute. You'll drive everyone away like you drove him—" Gianna yelled in devastation, her anger causing thick tears to gather in her light-colored eyes, her hands pointing towards him accusingly as I saw his eyes get crushed at her low blows. She sobbed out-loud, shaking her head and wiping her eyes uselessly, before moving for the door and I felt Cato move to reach for her, his anger flaring.

Before I could stop myself, I had wrapped my arms around his waist, pushing him back off the door and into the bed behind him, my face nuzzling his naked, hot chest, my breath tinkling his frame as I whispered to him in pleading, holding him back and feeling the way he fought stubbornly to go after her, hurt her physically as bad as she had stabbed him emotionally. I had no control over the situation but somehow my mind kept fighting, holding my body put against his. I couldn't let him make a mistake. I didn't know when I had switched sides, protecting him from himself instead of accusing him like the others.

"Cato, please, let it go. _Please_, don't do this. You're not thinking straight. You don't want to do this. Think of Marvel. He needs you," I repeated under my breath furiously, feeling the way his limbs stopped fighting mine, halting their wriggling, his eyes staring at the closing door where the red-head had escaped, running out of the room, clutching herself and sobbing out-loud, her footsteps echoing in the empty hallway.

He was panting against me, his body shaking in effort as I pulled away, staring at him in a mix of pity and compassion. I knew I had to be scared because he had almost wanted to attack a female but at the same time he had been there many times for me, helping me get up when I fell down sobbing. I had to repay him and save him from his toxic self because Marvel was breaking and Thresh was missing so he couldn't depend on anyone else. I seemed to be the only one around and my heart seized at the gigantic responsibility in front of me.

He slid himself on the floor, placing his head on his knees, his hands in his short, sweaty hair. I moved to sit next to him, biting my lip and waiting for him to relax, observing his breaths as they slowed down, analyzing his body for tremors that would give away his wet eyes, the ones he wanted so desperately to hide. I waited, the back of my head on the cool wall, easing my rabid thoughts.

"What you saw with me and Gianna has been going on for a while in absolute secrecy. I would appreciate it if you didn't tell people. It is one of those topics they wouldn't understand. Please, don't tell Marvel. I don't want him to ask—I wouldn't be able to excuse myself," He whispered under his breath, his face still hidden from my sight, his tone regretful. "I'm sorry for screaming at you. I lost control."

I sighed lightly, my hand moving to rest on his crouched back similarly to what I had done with Marvel when he had been struggling. It hadn't worked then and I doubted it would work now but it was the only thing I knew how to do. It was what Gale had done to me every time I cried and hid in myself, my tears falling on my pants and creating deep spots of desperation.

"I just want to know one thing," I muttered in preparation, my hand stilling its movement on his tense back. I had to ask because it was bothering me and I wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't confirm for me that it wasn't true. It couldn't be true. My eyes squinted shut and my teeth bit my tongue in punishment before I blurted out my fears, noticing the way his shoulders stiffened and his breath gasped.

"Did it…_excite_ you every time—every time you beat him up?"

"No! Jesus Christ, no!" He sobbed immediately with a broken tone, his face snapping up to meet mine, his eyes wide and glassy, tears forming on the side of them to drip down his flushed cheeks. That was the second time he had lost control of his eyes in front of me but I knew that the first time he had recovered much quicker, hiding his weakness out of fear that I would use it against him. He trusted me at the moment, which meant he was finally crumbling his walls enough to let me observe just how much damage was behind them. "Never."

As more tears ran down his face, I couldn't stand the way he was looking at me, pleading for me to understand. I wasn't the judge. When had I become the one he needed approval from? I panicked only for a second without a plan, fidgeting with my awkward self before blocking my insecurities and making a move to touch him. I pulled him towards me gently, amazed at how easily he accepted the contact, falling on my chest, his head next to my heart, his arms around my waist, clutching me to him like a child holds on a teddy bear for comfort. My fingers raked through his hair affectionately, holding his face and placing my lips on his forehead like he had done when I was whimpering lost.

"It broke me," He whispered against my shirt, his forehead marring in a frown. I hummed to let him know I was listening without giving an opinion. He didn't need any approval. He wanted to let it out, explain what he needed to figure out in his heart. He wanted to look at the words as they were spoken out loud, naked of inner doubts, so he could be at peace with his decision.

I was finally getting a glimpse at the real him, the one he so desperately wanted to move away from, the one he kept behind cages, hidden deeply in his dark and angsty past. He was opening up and it didn't matter if I was ready to hear it because I had to grip him to my frame and whisper words of comfort on his hair while he nuzzled my shirt. I had to do it because my body was convinced it was my role. I had wanted to be Marvel's Gale when I saw him struggle that day in Haymitch's apartment but little did I know that Cato was the one that actually needed it.

"Every time I touched him, every _bruise_ I saw on his body made me want to give up, disappear so I wasn't there to hurt him like that again. The worst was that he never fought back—he always let me do it so willingly. He never hated me for it like he should have and I just didn't fucking _understand_ why he insisted on the cycle. I didn't know what to do. I loved him so much it hurt. I spent all my nights awake either crying about him not being there or kissing every mark on his body, whispering empty apologies that he had heard many times before as he slept, cuddled next to me," He explained to me, his voice alternating between a soft whisper and a strong conviction.

My heart was breaking for him but the talking seemed to have calmed him down, the tears no longer falling, his eyes drying up and staring into space. He had wanted to let somebody bear the burden for a long time and he was finally getting some rest from the demons that haunted him. I didn't want to hear more in case it brought back haunting memories, triggered more nightmares, but I had to listen for his sake because he needed it.

"Why not break up at that point? Save both of you?" I asked slowly, favoring my curiosity and encouraging him to start talking again before he entered the shell in his mind where warped thoughts kept you hostage from the outside world, the people trying to save you with empty words and broken promises. He shifted in my chest, chuckling bitterly as his lips pursed in thought. I knew he had had many people question him similarly. He seemed tired in that 'I pity those who don't understand' way with remorseful eyes and pouted lips.

"It's hard to understand my motives. I've grown accustomed to that. I've known Marvel all my life. Do you know what that means? I have seen him as a _baby_. I have _seen_ what his family does to him constantly, how they treat him. I have grown up with him every step of the way, every fall he had, every small victory. I have been with him since when we first went to kindergarten, his face hiding in my back, to this, our senior year in high school. I care about him more than everyone in my family combined." A big sigh left his parted lips, a half-hearted smile gracing them, as I studied him in awe, my eyes flicking to the photos on the wall, the many babies smiling down at me beautifully.

The bitter chuckle that left his throat pulled me back into his world, the images of them as children growing up pushing the haunting ones away and invading my mind. I could almost see them and it was humbling. I could experience what he was wording so beautifully though I had never had anyone like that beside me growing up. It fascinated me and made my heart flutter. I felt privileged to have heard him talk about it and I smiled as he continued, my hands tracing patterns on his back.

"For the longest time I thought it was because I was an only child—he was like the younger brother I never had. Until he had that first guy flirt with him in front of me, touch his ass and make him squirm uncomfortably. Then I knew. I knew I would beat the shit out of the other kid the next time I saw him. I noticed the way he looked at Finnick and I knew that I wanted to be more than the brother or the best friend. I wanted to be there for him in every way possible. I love him and I'm willing to sacrifice anything to make him happy after I've hurt him so badly," He finished, accepting the silence and I didn't know what else to say because the information was starting to sink in slowly.

It was close to impossible for me imagine the relationship that held them together so tightly through the horrors of their lives. I never had any type of bond with my parents or my half-brothers who ignored me, looking at me as an intruder that stole their dad's attention unfairly. I couldn't understand the care that the blond, cuddling in my chest, had for the curly-haired boy that was throwing a tantrum in the room next door. It felt powerful and sacred. It sounded like the dream come true that I wanted to achieve.

I knew I was far from earning their trust and even further from feeling their love but somehow I felt special around them. I acted differently, climbed out of my shell, was able to make a difference in their complicated lives. I wasn't about to give that feeling of community up and go back to my boring, monotone life of lowliness. I was as confused as the rest of them yet I could just smile at the face of an obstacle, clinging on to his frame now lying peacefully on top of me or Marvel's body, picking me up and holding me next him safely. I could survive and it was all about surviving.

"He loves you too more than you know. He loves you the _mostest_ actually," I murmured against his forehead, smiling widely at the grin that adorned his features when he heard the misused word. He seemed pleased and the jealousy did not consume me because the pure emotions stemming from my heart defeated it back into its cursed shell.

We stayed in comfortable silence, my butt tingling with that feeling of numbness, my eyes drooping closed in the dark surroundings, his breaths putting me to sleep. My thoughts had calmed down when I heard the door snap open forcefully, slamming against the wall, making us both jump alert, pulling away from each other just in time to see the handle turn into the dark room. Cato turned towards me, cocking his head side-ways and I urgently mouthed 'help him' before turning to look at Marvel's tired form as he stepped inside. He seemed rattled, looking around lost for one second before spotting us, his eyes smiling a little before flooding in pain.

He had changed into an oversized t-shirt that wasn't his though I was certain it wasn't Cato's either from the lack of recognition that the blond had spotting it. His pants had been discarded, as he stood in front of us in his blue boxers and socks, pouting in sadness, his eyes red from his consistent rubbing. He seemed in no mood to talk, probably having lost all his voice screaming. I wondered how many objects had survived the hurricane that had hit the room.

"Marv, babe, what happened? Is everything okay? Do you need help?" Cato asked immediately in a worried tone, extending his hands towards the other as we both watched the curly-haired boy hesitate, swaying from side to side in indecision, before trudging towards us and plopping down on his ass in front of Cato, close enough for the blond to touch his hair and face, pull him in for a chaste kiss on the forehead.

"Finnick says he will never talk to me again and that he's done watching out for me and that—that a lot of bad things," Marvel revealed through a wet voice that shook in effort, his face cringing and his eyes wavering in fear but refusing to shed any tears. I was amazed at his power to hold back his emotion. I wondered if he would ever cry in front of me.

Cato's face scowled in resentment at the statement, his hands clutching into fists once before releasing in defeat. I saw him pull Marvel to his chest in a tight hug, whispering gruffly in his hair much like I had done to him. I let them do their thing because I knew Cato would be the only one able to help him back up. Apparently I had been wrong, as I would soon realize.

"I'm certain he doesn't mean it. He's just being an asshole because he knows it hurts you like this. The bitch wants to prove himself. He's probably just having a bad day, babe. Some fat fuck must have fucked him raw," Cato blurted in anger and I didn't think he noticed how hard Marvel flinched at the last statement. It more than stung—it seemed personal and my eyes squinted in concentration to try and understand their interaction.

Marvel spoke again in low terms and I frowned when I noticed he changed his language spontaneously, mumbling in rapid Russian, his face deteriorating in guilt, his lips white from his constant nips. His eyes kept darting from Cato's face to mine, never staying long enough for me to catch his evading gaze. I sat up, alert, feeling the change in the atmosphere. My eyes analyzed his lips in false hope that I could comprehend his mangled speech, broken by whines and sniffs.

I couldn't understand what they were saying and I assumed Marvel was merely filling Cato in on the result of the delivery, explaining why Finnick had exploded in the first place. A part of my stomach felt that wasn't it though, stinging in suspicion because they usually didn't mind being open with their secrets. I thought they trusted me. I thought I had been there long enough for them to know I was safe—an _ally_.

I knew they were talking about me when Cato pulled back suddenly, staring at him in pity, shaking his head with pursued lips, when the other one started whining, practically sobbing dryly and repeatedly, his hands clutching Cato's to prevent the other from pulling away. I inched forward on all fours to approach them. Something had clearly happened to upset them more, they were both glaring at each other silently, refusing to speak for a couple of seconds in insecurity.

Both their eyes met my self-doubting ones, begging for them to explain when I sat down in the middle of them, refereeing from the side in case they needed a time-out. I cursed in my mind, preparing for bad news at the way Marvel's green orbs were devastated and Cato's blue ones were apprehensive. What had I done? Where had I fucked up?

"_Niki, __pazhalusta—_please," Marvel muttered under his breath, his eyes falling to the floor in defeat, and I saw Cato nod stiffly, letting go of his hand long enough for the curly-haired boy to detach himself and stand up rapidly with clumsy feet, inching for the door. I looked at him in surprise, pouting towards his face, while Cato's hand moved to hold my arm, making my skin flinch in goose bumps. I looked back and forth for an explanation and got none, the silence making me nervous my palms sweating annoyingly.

"I am so sorry," I heard Marvel mumble, his clear eyes piercing mine with their sincerity, and my heart dropped to the bottom of my churning stomach, my breath catching. He moved for the door, opening it slowly, and I stumbled on my feet, trying to follow behind him, ask him for details, but Cato pulled me down, yanking me violently back on my knees, his blue eyes pleading with me to stay put. I didn't understand and it made me scream 'no' in frustration, tugging my hand free from his, dropping on my ass from the momentum.

"Where is he going? What's happening? Why are you keeping me in the dark?" I muttered anxiously, each question making Cato flinch more than the one before, his eyes kept mocking me with their pity. My voice had broken by the end of my exclamation and I felt nauseous. His hands moved to hug me to his chest but I pushed away, wriggling away to understand, glaring at his face while he bit his lip, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

"What I'm going to say will make you cry and I don't want you to cry, Peeta. Promise me you will _try_ to understand?" He murmured slowly, choosing his words carefully, inching closer to my shaking form, while I shook my head in denial, refusing to touch him just yet, my hands clutching on his hoodie, holding it closer to my body. He couldn't take it away—it was mine.

"Marvel is going to Clove, blondie. He told me to let you know… the pact is over. Don't, please, don't cry. I'm not finished yet. He likes you a lot. He kept repeating that he didn't want to lose you. He just…_needs_ sex tonight if he is going to make it through the night and he knows you're not ready to provide it. He doesn't want your first time to be from pressure. Oh, no, little baby, fuck—" He broke off his distant explanation when he noticed my wet face, hiding behind my shaking hands as I tried to compose myself for his sake, sniffling furiously the snot that was running down my lips and gulping the knot in my throat away, trying to hide how much it actually killed to hear him tell me that I wasn't good enough.

I couldn't make him happy, give him what he needed to get over the pain, because I was weak—because I couldn't offer him what Clove could. All I could provide was empty words and stupid touches, bowing out when he mentioned what he really wanted. He hadn't even been strong-enough to tell me himself, knowing how I would handle it, realizing I would make it about me, ignoring his shattering frame, his needs. I wanted to hate him. I wanted to blame him and hurt him. I wanted to go up there and scream at them in bed about how much of an asshole he was. I wanted to so badly but I couldn't because I knew the consequences going in. I had signed that contract willingly. He had just given me so much hope. I had seen myself with him, noticed how well we were together, hoped—hoped against all hopes that he would ask me one day to stay with him because that was what I wanted to do.

I had never felt more self-conscious, sobbing in his room openly, while he moved the hood of his gift on top of my head, kissing me on top of the added layer of safety, whispering for me to 'believe him' and 'stay strong.' I clutched his sweatpants, pulling him closer, seeking his warmth as he stayed in front of me, crestfallen and sad, his hand occasionally touching my face to wipe my tears away, as I hiccupped insistently, avoiding his eyes.

He had warned me about the situation—he had been right about my tears, my sniffling in his room like a crybaby. I wanted to stop but I couldn't because it had been too soon. I hadn't been ready—prepared for the blow to my confidence. Only a few hours ago, he had been holding my hand in his affectionately, kissing my neck like I was the only one he wanted. Only hours ago, I felt like I could tell him who I was on the inside, like he could help me become stronger. I had felt confident, fulfilled, unafraid. Why did it have to shatter before my very eyes?

I heard Cato fumble with his phone and I noticed the anger in his face through the curtain of tears that slowly faded from my eyes. He was still sitting in front of me but his attention had shifted to the call as the phone rang continuously with seemingly no reply. I stared in curiosity, wiping my tears and snot on the sleeve of his hoodie. It made me feel better because my body knew it was his, believed he would come back for it. I had been the first person who he had surrendered it to after all, not Clove. I would keep it hostage until he came back for it, came back with a kiss and an apology—came back with a proposition.

"It's five thirty-three, whoever this is better have a good fucking excuse," I heard Finnick mutter gruffly on the other side, his voice tired and raspy, his tone making Cato bite the inside of his cheek to contain himself.

"It's Niki and I do have a fucking good excuse, asshole," Cato snapped back, growling in his throat. I gulped when I heard the insult. I felt as if I was living through a déjà vu that couldn't end well. One of my shaking hands reached out to touch him in the shin and I shook my head slowly when his eyes found mine.

"Ah, Christ. This again. I refuse to have this conversation in the early hours of the morning. I have work tomorrow, Niki. Let him sleep in your bed or something. That'll do the trick." The snarl that tore out of Cato's throat had me jumping back, my fingers hiding in the stained sleeves of the hoodie. I could tell it had stung though I wasn't sure if Finnick had meant for it to. The blonde's mouth opened and closed in frustration, trying to come up with a response. He was devastated and looking at his hurt face, remembering Marvel's pained look, I hated Finnick. I despised him for being so nonchalant.

"You're a prick. You—" Cato's voice shook in effort, his fists clenching, his jaw strong and his teeth cutting his lip. Finnick snorted to interrupt his accusations and Cato fell silent. I could see he was debating hanging up. He hated every second he spent talking to the arrogant man. The other one wasn't worth all the struggles he put them through.

"I'm the one who protects his tight, little ass constantly, Niki. So don't patronize me. He fucked up today for all of you. The children are in danger now and the Bratva is pissed. I am not going to stroke his ego when he doesn't deserve it. He was being a child and he's nineteen soon. He has responsibility," Finnick patiently explained and that time Cato didn't rush to put in his two cents. He sighed to himself, nodding slightly. He seemed torn because Finnick's comeback made sense and there was nothing in it to insult. I wish he had said that to Marvel, explained it to the curly-haired boy better.

"I _understand_, Finnick, but he's very upset. You know exactly how he gets. He doesn't handle confrontation well especially when it comes to…_you_." It was hurting the blond to admit that conclusion but he was holding strong because he cared about Marvel enough to solve all his problems so the curly-haired boy didn't have to fight on his own. Thresh had been right: Marvel hadn't fought his own battles every since he was a baby. As much as I knew Cato did it out of love, it was making the other boy emotionally weak. It was hurting them both in the end.

"I know. I'll talk to him tomorrow. I got a little heated. Let me get a couple of hours of sleep now," Finnick murmured tiredly, his tone dropping in pitch, as he got sleepier. I thought he would hang up without notice again. He seemed to do that a lot but that time he spoke again in a much softer voice, laced with subtle concern and definite affection that he wasn't struggling hard to conceal. "Take care of him, Niki. Make sure he doesn't do something he will regret."

"That might be a little too late. Good night, Finnick." It was Cato who hung up first, without letting the other man speak, and his blue eyes immediately found mine in silence. It was clear he didn't know what to say. He sighed again as he moved to sit by my side, like we had sat earlier on with his face, sniffling on my chest. How fast the tables had turned; how quick had our roles been reversed.

"He's a little out of my league, isn't he?" I mumbled in self-deprecation, leaning back on the wall as our thighs touched and our arms rubbed against each other. The sentiment didn't bring with it tears that time. I had come to admit the reality, rejoice in having a chance in the first place. How many people got to say their first kiss was the most beautiful boy in the world? How many got the chance to be that intimate with him?

"When you're created to be the most beautiful baby, you're a little out of everyone's league," Cato chuckled next to me lightly, his strong arm shifting so it wrapped around my fallen shoulders. He looked at my blushing face, pulling me to him in a side-ways hug that I accepted with a faint smile, "Don't think that way. Confidence is a big factor. I personally think you're better looking than Finnick."

He winked slyly at my gaping face while I recovered quickly with a harsher blush and shook my head in disbelief. I couldn't tell if he was flirting or making me feel better but I loved the attention so I would continue to keep the conversation in the same path. My head rested on his shoulder and he didn't seem to mind, the fingers of the arm holding me together went roughly through my blond locks. "Marv told me that Finnick and I are nothing alike. I'm guessing blond hair is the only thing we have in common," I reiterated his words, smiling at the memory of his warm, protective frame on top of mine, keeping me grounded and hunting the memories away. I wanted Marvel to come back.

He would come back—we had something different though his stubborn brain couldn't see it at the moment. Until then, the deal was broken which meant anything I did with his ex was fair game. I would not feel guilty in the morning and Clove would not ruin my lunches with her divulging. Maybe we both needed a day to think.

"Finnick is a brunet with bright, blue eyes like your gorgeous ones. What made you think he was a blond?" Cato asked lightly out of curiosity and I blushed red in confusion, realizing I would have to come clean about stalking the video, the one that his probable boyfriend at the time seduced people in, singing literally for my entertainment. My cheeks flamed more when his eyes turned knowing. I would avoid telling him that I had that video illegally downloaded in my iTunes.

"I saw the video in the internet," I muttered reluctantly while he barked in laughter, his eyes turning mirthful. He looked amused so I had to smile at his good mood, shrugging innocently and pouting, a snappy 'what?' leaving my mouth.

"Oh, that piece of art. I had forgotten that existed. Yeah, he _was _blond back then—he had a phase where he went through all sorts of colors. I wonder if he knows the video is still up. He wasn't as bitchy when he was a senior—not the best thing that happened to my life but not the prick he's right now."

I nodded after his explanation, looking at the clock as it neared midnight. It had been a long day and if I thought I was ready to go to bed when we had returned from our trip, I was ready to collapse on the floor at the moment. Cato must have sensed my fatigue because he quickly placed a chaste kiss on my temple, murmuring about my going to sleep to which I nodded slowly.

I took a deep breath to calm my nerves and settle my stomach. Then I went for it and I wasn't disappointed.

I sat up abruptly, his arm dropping around my waist, still pulling me close to his frame. Before he had time to question my motives, my trembling lips came crashing on his parted ones and I could feel the gasp of air against my heated skin as he started kissing back, slowly working his way into a more comfortable position, his free hand coming to cup my face and pull me closer, his rough fingers pulling my wavy strands back as his lips kissed and nibbled on every part of my mouth, nipping on my bottom lip, making me moan teasingly.

I made the move to get closer and settle on his lap but he encouraged me excitedly, his hands sliding down my back to my ass as he gripped me through the jeans. I thought about his having kissed Gianna only a couple of hours ago. I thought about Marvel's upset face when Clove told him I kissed Cato. I thought about a possible relationship, and Cato's devotion to Marvel, and Clove riding on my future boyfriend's dick. The thoughts kept mixing randomly and my mouth kept moving against his nevertheless because my body was acting on its own, milking every pleasurable spark it found. We pulled apart for air and he closed his blue eyes, our foreheads touching, our breaths mixing with each other, the ragged pants accentuating our horny personas.

"This is wrong," I muttered reluctantly when I felt the bulge in his sweatpants, my erection springing to life when it remembered that he was going commando. I shook my head against the desire, groaning in frustration when his hands flicked closer to my crotch, my face falling on his shoulder while his arms hugged me to his frame, his lips moving against my ear every time he spoke. He smelled intoxicating. I wanted to continue.

"You know what's wrong? The fact that you're wearing his shirt and I can't decide if that turns me on or off. That's wrong," He admitted truthfully with a short sigh, kissing me in the back of my ear before nuzzling his face in my neck, "Fuck me."

I giggled at his tone because I loved when he made fun of himself. It made him more human and it made me feel better about all my insecurities. I didn't know how to reply to his statement because was that wrong? He was clearly attracted to Marvel and so was I… oh dear lord, we both had a Marvel fetish. We both secretly wanted to be in Clove's position right then. I didn't know if we were using each other as a rebound, trying to ease the pain into forgetting by concentrating on other pleasures. I didn't yet know but it felt good and the guilt wasn't coming back for revenge.

My phone rang in my pocket and I had forgotten it was even there until it made its presence known. After the day's events, every phone call sent my heart racing in panick. I expected the worse because that was what being with them had taught me. Phone calls meant somebody from the outside was going to ruin the bubble of safety you had built with your friends. Phone calls meant trouble and I pulled out my phone reluctantly, freezing at the name on the screen.

His blue eyes questioned me in worry, dropping to the screen before looking up. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the smile make its way to my face, my eyes glistening in happiness. I looked up to him, hesitating for a second before leaning down to peck him in the full mouth.

"Fair game?" I stated simply, my lips still against the side of his, smirking at his snort. He chuckled afterwards, shaking his head hopelessly and helping me up with his strong hands so I was standing on my feet, looking at his sitting form, his eyes relaxed and playful.

"Well-played," He returned, winking at me and I grinned, bouncing towards the door, phone in hand, still ringing annoyingly. The minute the door slammed behind me, separating me from his eyes, the device was in my ear and my tone sounded against his face.

"Gale!"

"Hey, buddy," He murmured lightly, my face beaming at his relaxed tone, my body sliding in the hallway, refusing to enter the room in case Thresh was there to ruin my mood. I wasn't sure if I could handle another dramatic fluctuation. I didn't know what his reaction would be to Marvel's failure to deliver, quite literally.

"You called. Shit. You actually—did you get my messages?" I asked incredulous, chuckling on the phone while he snorted at me but that time it wasn't in bitterness. My frame was crouched on the floor, my ass against the itchy carpet, my hand on my face, shutting my eyes from the light.

"I did. I just needed some time," He drawled slowly and I nodded to myself before realizing he couldn't see me. It felt amazing to hear his voice again. My heart throbbed against my ribcage in happiness. I had missed him.

"I understand. I'm sorry for being a neurotic dick. I didn't know what I was doing—I still don't," I admitted sadly, waiting for his response, hoping he would make me feel better, not worse.

"It's alright. I—I shouldn't have overreacted. It's just hard for me because I don't know how to handle you getting a boyfriend," He muttered grudgingly, his tone getting smaller with every word he admitted out loud, and I gulped against the tears, hoping he wouldn't utter something too homophobic. I was starting to feel judged again. "You're my best friend and I'm scared that I'm gonna come in second when you get another boy that can offer you what you really want. It's hard enough not having you sit next to me in school."

"Gale," I murmured his name longingly as he sighed in self-deprecation. I couldn't believe that so many people cared about what I thought of them. I had been unimportant all my life. Nobody cared if I was present. Yet somehow coming to the school, I had gathered more attention than I had thought I needed. I was bathing in it and I was sure it would screw me up soon enough. I would enjoy the ride to hell though.

"You're my best friend. You've been with me through thick and thin. Nobody can replace that. Besides, I am not anywhere close to having an actual boyfriend." I chuckled as he sighed on the other end of the line, mumbling something along the lines of hating second place. I already knew he did—he was possessive when it came to people and it was eating him up inside that he couldn't be physically there to intimidate the competition. My mind thought that had I not left, I would have never gotten a boyfriend. Gale wasn't attracted to me by any chance but he wanted my video gaming with him to come before any possible dates. He subconsciously isolated me from the world and I was just opening my eyes to that.

"No luck with little, Russian Marvel?" He muttered a little more forcefully than I thought was indifferent. I didn't want to fight on our first phone call so I opted for shifting the topic to one he would willingly talk about. I didn't want to lie to him but I would avoid telling the truth, twisting it in acceptable ways, if that meant he would be relaxed and happy.

"Nope. How's school? Is Junior year as tough as they say?" He sighed, clearly letting me know he was aware of my plan, uttering a small apology that I didn't think was necessary before answering my extremely plain and boring question. We would have to figure out a way to talk about the not-so-plain lifestyle I was leading without him calling me names.

"Nah. I'm taking bio though which sucks. I got McGregor…he's making me sit in the front. How's private school? I wanna come visit sometime. When are you coming back in Cali?" He suggested innocently and I stuttered, biting my lip at the idea. A part of me wanted him there by my side because it missed his presence; it needed his smiles. The other part did not want him to meet Cato who I constantly cuddled with and Marvel who insisted on flirting shamelessly, giving me fleeting hope. I wasn't sure if he was ready for the confrontation—I sure wasn't. I didn't trust the mafia kids to behave and with Clove, roaming free like a sociopathic killer, I would be damned if I escaped the visit unscathed. Nevertheless…

"You should visit, Gale. Don't sacrifice too much for it though. Private school is not all that. Harkness tables, sarcastic teachers and a lot of cotton shit—sweatpants galore. I'm coming back for thanksgiving." Though, I was desperately hoping I would figure out a way to stay because I hated sitting around a table with people who were supposed to be my family, the one I had never had, staring at me in pity. I had nothing to say anyway and I was certain with my going away to boarding school there would be lots of questions.

"I can imagine. You'll be a bum by then," He mocked, chuckling lightly, before his tone turned sad again, "I miss you, Peeta."

"I miss you too. We'll talk more, I promise," I assured him, knowing that tomorrow night would be a big no-no, considering the dance would occupy my entire life, that big deal of a dance that people kept muttering about in the hallways. I was still uncertain on what it was about and why it was called after the colorful cube but the girl sitting next to me in History told me that they give out instructions the day before during lunchtime. She said the announcements were always funny.

"Good. Sleep well, Peet'. Talk soon," He muttered and I bid him good-bye, sighing against the wall. Though I was walking back to my room, seemingly back to square one, I felt better than I had ever since I arrived in my new life and caught sight off the golden thread, following it with the selfish goal of untangling its magnificent form. I ended up pretty caught up in it, messing it further into a chaotic knot, but at least I got to witness its existence.

Thresh was not back and it was way past check-in. I didn't know where he was or how long he was going to be absent. I was worried about him. I hated that I felt in my gut he was fucking up. I had been through too much to worry about it today though. I would solve one miniscule step at a time. There was no use in running up the stairs.

When I jumped on the bed, on top of the blankets, I noticed the hoodie lying innocently on my pillow, wrinkled and forgotten. I knew what it was before I went to touch it gently as if it was alive, grabbing it and pulling it to my chest. I didn't yet know if he had forgotten it when he came to apologize but I highly doubted that he had dragged it with him, which meant he had brought it back. He had given it to me while letting me keep his own orientation shirt.

The change in dynamics felt significant and I fell into a dreamless sleep, cuddled in his shirt, the hood on my head, shielding my eyes, and clutching the other shirt, nuzzling it with my face, smelling his scent on its cotton texture.

I was excited for Rub-Cube and the fear had practically disappeared.

They would protect me.


	16. All Mod Cons

**Chapter 14: All Mod Cons**

_Peeta's POV (Friday)_

I woke up more satisfied with sleep than all the other days put together though I had barely gotten seven hours. I thought briefly about wearing Cato's hoodie to school in order to spite Marvel but last minute decided against it, knowing it would only end up hurting me in the end if he further distanced himself from my pathetic, whimpering self.

Thresh was still missing from last night and his absence had me really worried until I ran into Glimmer at breakfast, her face somber and her eyes darker than usual. She had told me that Thresh often stayed with Rue when he was having rough days and I had nodded gingerly, thanking her for easing my doubts and smiling at the bond between the two siblings. I had noticed that my roommate was way happier when he was clutching Rue's hand or bantering lightly back and forth with her chirpy, bouncy self. She was like his angel and I assumed she was the reason he kept fighting through, withstanding the suffering that ignoring the disease would give. I thought she needed to know eventually but I knew it would devastate her. It wasn't my place to blurt it out. Thresh would do it when he was ready.

Glimmer did not seem in the best mood that breakfast and she revealed what I had already deduced by her blood-shot eyes and her botchy skin. She felt quite sick, coughing repeatedly and excusing herself. After that poignant statement I had shut my mouth and continued eating awkwardly. I remembered Marvel talking about her health issues being due to the experiment—I did not want to push it further by asking her what was wrong. I just murmured for her to 'get well', giving her a fake smile.

We munched on the cold pancakes in tense silence that became worse when Gianna stumbled in the dining hall, red-eyed and cranky, blushing angrily at my curious face, subtly staring at her fatigued expression. I quickly looked down at my lap to avoid confrontation as she purposely sat across from me, next to Glimmer's indifferent form, stabbing the food in her plate with a huffy face.

My appetite disappeared as I cursed and thanked god when Cato came down to breakfast, hair disheveled and wet, dripping on the back of his navy V-neck sweater. He had not given up on his sweatpants, though the ones he was wearing looked soft and expensive, cutting below the knee and clinging to his muscled thighs much tighter than his previous baggy ones. When he turned around to grab a banana, I spotted the 'Burberry' label on the back, rolling my eyes and allowing myself the privilege to check his body out, my blue orbs lingering on his plump bottom, nuzzled tenderly against the fabric.

I hadn't realized how hard I was staring until Gianna coughed unattractively and my eyes dropped to his black snickers as they approached our table, his hand falling on my blonde, wavy hair, dragging my face up to meet his innocent grin.

"We have English first. Let's go?" He questioned me, motioning for the door impatiently, and I was stunned for a second because that was the first time he made an effort to acknowledge our similar schedules. Other times he would just walk ahead with a care in the world even if that meant trudging through the quad alone, listening to his iPod sulkily while scowling at the shitty weather of New England.

Gianna wanted to kill me, I was certain but I shrugged nevertheless, cleaning my plate and smiling brightly at how he was waiting for me outside the dining hall, his hands in his pockets, his bag on his strong back. I slapped myself for even as much as thinking I could reach for his hand to hold, cringing against my own cravings. I was such a girl and he would have laughed at me had I made an attempt, his blue eyes crinkling in amusement, his lips mocking me in a smirk.

"Can I have your number…I mean if we are to go to Rub-Cube together today…" I started hesitantly, blushing at the way he smirked at me, his eyebrows shooting up in amusement. I wanted to insult him but I knew I would stutter in that state so I sulked petulantly, watching him shuffle to unpocket his phone.

"How forward of you, blondie," He murmured silkily, chuckling at my flushed face, "Put yours in. I don't remember mine."

I cocked my head sideways when I noticed he was holding two phones in his hand, both white and shiny iPhones. He handed me his but my eyes kept glaring at the other one because I was certain it was Marvel's—I had seen it before when he was clutching it painfully against his chest, Finnick on the other end. I wondered suspiciously what Cato was doing with it and he must have read my thoughts because he followed my gaze, sighing lightly at my stern glare.

"He forgot it yesterday before he—ugh—left. I didn't want to interrupt to give it back so now I'm stuck with its continuous ringing," He excused himself, shrugging indifferently, and I nodded gingerly, trading it for the one in my hand where I had already plugged in my digits.

He stared at me blankly, holding it against his palm possessively, refusing to let go, and his desire to protect it made me want it even more. I cocked my head sideways while he moved to place both phones back in his pockets, staring at me in a way that told me he was not amused at my expectations. I lied and I shivered at noticing how easily it slipped from my tongue, my eyes glittering innocently. I was changing and I was too scared to stop the progress because for once I felt happy. That was the only thing that mattered and I would be more than willing to take a 'means to an end' approach because I was a coward—because I couldn't go back to square one.

"I have class with him next period…I'll give it to him."

My voice was steady even when he analyzed my face in scrutiny, his lips pursed and his eyes brows furrowed. I extended my hand again and he placed the prized possession on it gingerly. I smiled inwardly about to pull away when his fingers grasped my arm and he pulled me towards his frame, my feet following his orders, my eyes seeking his in fear.

My breath caught as his fanned against my lips, our eyes darkening and our lips wetting in preparation. I wanted it and my heart raced when he approached me, his hand never releasing me, his eyes frivolously closing, his lips blindly seeking mine. I met him halfway, touching him lightly, like a feather tickling across his nerve-filled skin. He moaned my name so quietly and it sent a shiver down my spine but my groin refused to react because I knew. I knew something that he had yet to realize and I couldn't be his toy as much as my body begged to be used by his strong, powerful hands, contaminated with his hot, wet mouth.

"Are you happy because you are kissing _me _or because you know that _Marvel_ isn't?" I whispered against his parted lips and he gasped while I moved away briskly, leaving him flailing to follow, his face contrived in confusion and pain. His eyes had the same color as the sky before a storm. His body was stiff, his hands in his pocket, wondering how exactly he had lost Marvel's phone to my pouty lips and wide eyes.

We walked to the class in silence and Brutus smirked at us amused when he noticed I sat next to Katniss, leaving Cato frozen in spot, alone on the other side of the room.

I wanted to smirk but I let Katniss do it for me because some part of me felt the pain that he was radiating. I wanted to apologize, to beg for him to understand, like I had understood why I wasn't good enough for Marvel—why he needed the slut, Clove, to ease his pain. It was for the best because I needed some distance. I wasn't about to be hurt again.

* * *

I was sulking by the time I reached my cursed seat in Psychology. My knees were propped against the side of the table and my eyes were staring lethargically at the way the teacher struggled to pick up all the papers she had dropped on the floor, stumbling on the leg of the chair clumsily. Everyone had chuckled and asked about her well being but nobody was making a move to come to her aid. I would have under normal circumstances but Cato's lack of attention throughout the entire class, where I had stolen glimpses at his hand furiously scribbling notes, had placed me in a bad mood.

He had not spoken to me at the end of class, muttering 'thank you' to Brutus as the other patted the blond on the back, before stomping outside, leaving me gaping at his retreating back, my hands slowly placing the books away. I had opted to stall for time so we could have had a private chat outside of the classroom but I only noticed I had miscalculated when Brutus raised his eyebrows at me, motioning towards my motionless self and muttering,

"I have another class coming in, newbie. Being respectful, they are all waiting at the door for you to exit so chop-chop if you don't need anything else."

I had gawked at all their curious faces, smashed up against the glass door, staring at me in curiosity before blushing furiously and charging through their crowding bodies into the hallway as they strolled in, joking with Brutus and laughing with each other. I had sprinted and therefore I was sweating at the moment, the air conditioner making me shiver, my wet back glaring at its purposeful flow.

Clove strolled in with her usual apathetic face, her red lips glossy against the lights and her eyes darkened with her liner. Her hair was down, touching her shoulders lightly and flowing in the cool breeze of the air conditioner. Her flats clicked as she made her way to the seat next to me.

I glared at her subconsciously, biting my lip and squinting my eyes at the table to avoid from imagining her naked, Marvel on top of her moaning and writhing—

My heart seized and my eyes stung against the images flowing through my brain, each more painful and graphic than the first. I wanted to scream at her so bad but I tried to compose myself because my hurt would only feed her ego.

The chair beside me screeched as she settled down and our eyes met without my mind even noticing they had betrayed it, staring at the way she flicked her hair behind her ear and fiddled with the top of her coffee bottle, her matching red nails stopping at the top when she noticed my attention. One of her thin eyebrows rose as mine furrowed and she opened her mouth, mine pursing in preparation. She would mock me. She would make fun of me for not being good enough—for letting him come back to her like she had predicted—for being a fucking virgin.

"What's up? Do you want some coffee? You probably need it—you look like shit," She muttered gruffly, sliding her bottle on the table in front of my widened eyes. I stared back in shock and she glanced at me, rolling her eyes and groaning 'weirdo' under her breath, her fingers playing with her pen and tapping it against the table.

"You're not going to rub it in my face?" I asked almost to myself, my voice small and my back straightened against the confusion. She looked at me like I was crazy, her mouth twitching and her forehead marring. She stared at her offered bottle than at me. I could see she was at a complete loss which made me lose my footing too, both of us falling in limbo, trying to get as much information out of the other in order to figure out the situation first.

"The fact that I have coffee? No, I have better things to do. You want it or not?" She asked incredulously, motioning towards the cup impatiently. I palmed it lightly, feeling the warmth through the plastic cup and hearing the slushing sound through the hole at the top, before handing it back to her, shaking my head. She shrugged, taking a sip and looking away again.

"You got some last night? Is that why you are actually acknowledging my presence?" I tried again because I wanted to get to the bottom of her strange attitude. My voice was raspy and insecure as she snapped her face towards me, her eyes glaring daggers and her lips parted in that 'what the fuck is wrong with you' motion. Three seconds of silence passed between us in which time she verified that I was really being serious in my question, waiting for her verdict with a dry mouth. I was asking for her to hurt me—I was seeking it, the details that my brain had formed into pictures.

"Wow, we have reached this stage in our acquaintanceship were you ask me about details on my _sex_ life?" She whispered sarcastically, staring at my determined face before continuing less certain than before, making a bewildered face, "You're bizarre. What is it to you anyway as long as you have Marv?"

What had she said?

"What the _hell_ does he see in you, I wonder…" She muttered lightly, turning around to end our conversation. I didn't deign her jab with a reply because my mind was reeling in possibilities. I was then certain that she had not had sex with Marvel last night. She didn't seem to know about our little break up at all and I could see it in her genuinely perplexed eyes. I didn't know how to proceed because I couldn't understand why he would have lied to me or Cato about his decision. Had he fucked somebody else? Someone that neither of us would know about? Someone secret like Gianna was to Cato? It didn't make sense seeing as he had Clove who was more than willing to do the honors.

My fingers found their way towards his phone as I looked at it for clues, sliding my trembling fingers on the cool screen, maneuvering my way to his texts, which were the first destination. My eyes glimpsed back at Clove in worry but she was stubbornly sipping on her caffeine, staring in sadistic amusement at the clumsy teacher.

All the threads but one seemed to have no new additions to them, the last text received marked with a time that was way before midnight. I listed the names in order of how recent the last text received was and found nothing suspicious: Niki, Sonny, Kat, Nemy, Dunya, 'Nash, Adri. As a last resort, I stared gravely at the only new text popping up, knowing it wouldn't help with my current dilemma but realizing I was too curious to let it go because it was from Finnick.

My fingers betrayed me and before I could criticize myself I was reading the long-ass essay the bratty, French man had sent over, his grammar impeccable and his spelling way better than one would find in texting threads. I hated him more.

"Good morning, Mattie. I've tried calling you several times but you don't pick up. Please answer my calls, baby. I'm not mad anymore—I just want to talk things out; apologize for yesterday. It was late and I was a little drunk on wine. You had me worried, sweetheart. I didn't know if you were in danger or not. You know I didn't mean what I said. I'll always watch your back, little one. I know you're upset so I'll leave you alone until you're ready. Call me back, baby."

In two quick taps the text disappeared, deleted from the archive permanently without being read by the one it was meant to address. My mind offered a sarcastic 'oops' as it excused its behavior. It was for the best. They had a toxic relationship and the way they fought only ended up damaging Marvel more. It was best for them to take some time away. Besides what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Before I slipped the phone in my pocket, I glanced at the number of missed calls, blanching. I was fighting a losing battle because Finnick had rung seventeen times.

The cookie had yet to crumble.

* * *

When I walked towards the cafeteria alone, sulking and glaring at the floor, I hadn't expected the rest of my day to improve. I had wondered about how I would get to Rub-Cube and what that was, watching all the students rush to the cafeteria excitedly, running down the hallways with the excuse of getting good seats. The curiosity was the only thing that drove me to go eat hot food as opposed to snacking in my room, cuddled in bed with the two shirts whose owners I kind of disliked at the moment.

I heard people screaming my name when I crossed the upperclassmen seating, trying to avoid looking at the tables in case they intimidated me into hiding. I assumed that Cato and Marvel were already occupying the cool table, arguing furiously over the phone that still inhabited my jacket pocket, ringing once in a while to complain at being kept hostage. I considered completely deleting Finnick's name from the contact book but realized I was acting like an obsessed, jealous girlfriend, opting for staring at it in disdain every time it popped up. He was fucking resilient that one. He didn't let people breathe.

Another suspicious text had graced his phone and that one I hadn't deleted because I felt it was important, the number unrecognized by the contact book, the message short and concise yet holding so much authority that reading it I felt like I had made a mistake, involved myself in matters too dodgy.

"_Hello, Ale. Cara and I are in town for a couple of days. We should meet up for old time's sake, don't you think? This is my new number. We miss you, you little fucker. Hit us up. –Gustav"_

The text had been on the back of my mind since it arrived all the way from Germany with a prefix like that. I forgot about it though when I heard Nick scream for me and looked up to notice him gesturing me over excitedly, straddling a backwards chair and waving what I thought was a shirt. The rest of the boys beside him where grinning and motioning over as well, their eyes glazed over in happiness, their faces split in grins.

I noticed halfway there as I treaded carefully towards what I thought I wasn't ready for that the table was filled with familiar faces because everyone sitting down had been on the try-outs. They were all wearing similar light-blue jerseys with numbers in the front. I smiled in bliss as Nick threw me mine, hugging me to his hard chest and muttering happily 'Congrats, man. Welcome to the fam.'

I thanked him, staring at the jersey that had my last name printed on the back with bold, black letters, my number, twelve, settled right under it. They urged me to put it on and once I traded my T-shirt for the silky material of the jersey, my arms shivering momentarily at the change in temperature, I felt privileged. I was sitting down at the table that I would have never dreamed of occupying had that been my old high school. I was surrounded by boys who I always thought were above me, too cool, too good, too strong. I was right beside the team captain whose arm had wrapped around my shoulders in glee as he sputtered in exhilaration about that night's event. I was being looked at with that awe-struck expression, the others staring at me in envy and desire, because for the first time I realized that wow I had moved up in the ladder.

I hugged Nick back with a smile, nodding giddily when he offered to drive me over to Rub-Cube later that day, joking about a mock date in his small, two-person Smart car. In a lot of ways he reminded me of Gale because he made stupid jokes about people and he laughed like an idiot, slamming his hand on the table loudly, and he felt warm against my side and safe against my doubts, my insecurities.

I knew I wasn't attracted to him. I knew he wasn't even into guys. I knew our relationship would be lucky to get to the bromance status. I wasn't lying to myself but when I saw the rest of the Mafia kids enter the cafeteria, Clove holding Marvel's hand in a friendly grasp and Cato ruffling his messy hair with a smile, I cuddled further on Nick's side, grinning at the fact that they couldn't touch me there.

I was on _their_ table, invading it with my lowly presence, and as much as they wanted to drag me away, they weren't welcome. I had found my group and I was shocked to realize that it wasn't their group, the group I so badly wanted to be in.

I saw Marvel pout and Cato glare viciously. I noticed the way Clove nudged the curly-haired boy lightly, giggling at his predisposition while the blond hugged him to himself and led him towards the line of people. Our blue eyes met for a second and I knew what he was telling me, his head shaking in disbelief, his hands still keeping Marvel from staring at me too long.

'_What are you doing, you fool?'_

'_I'm playing his game by his rules.' _

We both continued to glare at each other while Marvel forgot about the encounter with his child-like attention span, rushing towards Sonny, whom I had not seen in the past few days at all, as both of them tumbled on the floor in amusement, the Japanese boy cursing the other one out as they cuddled amicably. I snapped my eyes back to the table because Cato wasn't the one I wanted to fight with and Marvel had already gotten somebody else to replace me like he always would. He was destined to never be alone.

* * *

Towards the end of lunch everyone quieted down, shifting in their chairs with screeching sounds, to face the two boys who had climbed over a table, waving to get the student's attention. I shifted my alertness when I saw all the boys in my table stare in excitement at Marvel and Sonny who were grinning like the Lion King on top of the Pride rock. I rolled my eyes as his green ones caught mine and he winked at me subtly, offering a shy smile. I didn't return it but my cheeks flushed, flattered. My heart raced for him and I hated the fact that he could have that affect on me with just one small acknowledgement.

"Hey everyone. I'm Sonny. This is Marv and we are your S.A.E. leaders for this year. That stands for Student Activities and Entertainment so we are in charge of that, the fun aspect on campus," Sonny started explaining, shouting so the underclassman gathered in the back could hear. They were all straining their necks to catch a glimpse, the girls fluttering their eyelashes and wetting their lips.

"Tonight as some of you know is the Rubik's Cube Dance," Marvel announced as most people cheered excitedly, waving at him, while others, like me were caught in confusion. I was glad to notice I wasn't the only one lost. "We have the dance every year and usually tickets sell in terms of seniority, which is why we haven't announced it earlier."

Boos and whines followed his announcement while Marvel chuckled lightly and Sonny hurried to continue without any more interruptions. They both seemed in their element, comfortable on the spotlight and truly excited about the event.

"Alright. Alright. We'll do our best to accommodate but as you all know we invite fellow schools to the dance so ticket number is limited. We don't wanna pass maximum capacity. Now, some rules. Please, settle down, guys, this is important," Sonny whined as everyone started to chat amongst each other, the noise in the dining room becoming suffocating. I could hear they were thrilled to meet people from different schools, giggling and clapping amongst themselves about what to wear.

"Guys, please! Pay attention if you want to know how to get in!" Marvel screamed over the crowd in an authoritarian voice and everyone quieted down, staring at him guiltily as he continued. "The dance is held in a warehouse on the outskirts of Boston, which means boarders_ have _to sign out with their house heads. Nobody will be allowed to leave until Saturday at ten a.m. Behind your ticket, you will find the address we will be staying at. Put that down in your blue card and get approval. We do not offer rides so please arrange for that yourself."

"It's called the Rubik's Cube Dance for a reason. To get in you must be wearing clothes of the same color—sorta like a crayon. Choose colors wisely because for the sake of making it more fun we have a limit of how many people per color we want so don't go for the easy ninja black."

"During the dance you will have the opportunity to switch anyway. Hey. Hey! Before you go all crazy at the prospect of nakedness. You can only trade one article at a time and it should be something hygienic. Use your common sense. I don't want to see underwear or bras flying around. Socks are okay and shoes if somehow they fit. Every time you manage to complete another full color with your clothes, find one of the SAE and we'll keep track of all your transformations."

"Marv is the senior rep. I'm the junior one. Edan over there is the sophomore one and little Rue will keep track of the freshmen. This _is_ a competition but that does _not_ mean you can go around ripping clothes of other people's bodies. Take it easy and have fun with it, ait?"

"Couple of last warnings. The ticket will be charged to your ID accounts. It's thirty dollars. You will sign for it at the entrance. Take a spare change of clothes with you and a sleeping bag if you wish. Please do not wear something inappropriate for the occasion. This would not be a good time to show off your new Armani shirt…let's face it you might never see your clothes again. If you are that girl wearing a Victoria Secret corset, you limit your possibilities of exchange significantly. So play it simple."

"Agreed…." Sonny finished and I could see the room rumble with excitement. "Tickets, anyone?"

Then there was chaos and screaming and stomping and squealing. The tables shook, the items on top cluttering to the floor, the two boys struggling to give one to everyone pushing towards them, gripping their clothes and jumping expectantly. I cringed in my seat as Nick laughed at my face, rolling his eyes at the others. My table went back to eating their lunches as if the world wasn't collapsing behind them, melting down in panicked yells.

I sat motionless in my chair as Nick muttered 'Marv always has a batch saved for his friends'. I started to think of what I had signed myself up for while going through my wardrobe in an attempt t choose an appropriate outfit. Tonight would definitely be an experience of a lifetime and my mind couldn't predict which one of them I would be cuddling with drunk and intoxicated, trapped in a warehouse with other inebriated teens littering the ground.

* * *

I was about to leave the cafeteria, having cleaned my plate with a blank face, when he caught up with me, finally free from all the attention that the rest of the school community was providing for him. The lunchroom floor had been trashed and the last few people leaving were sulking at not having received a ticket, whining about the lack of them to Sonny who had told them off more than once, eventually settling for leaving the area permanently, his stomps echoing across the floor.

He grabbed my arm lightly just enough to get my attention because the minute my startled eyes found his, he dropped his touch and fidgeted with his shirt, his smile faltering slightly in front of my apathetic face. I stopped in front of him, watching him shuffle on his feet, swaying sideways, as one of his hands yanked lightly at the curls, pushing them away from his anxious green eyes. We stared in silence until he couldn't take it any longer.

"I got you a ticket," He murmured quietly, extending his hand and offering me the promised piece of cardboard like a shrine, his hand slightly shaking with his nervousness, his eyes looking at mine, pleading for acceptance. I wanted to grasp it from him and jump in his embrace but I couldn't because my heart was still hurt. It denied every attempt he made.

"You're coming, right? I want you to come," He muttered next at my hesitation, his voice lowering to a whisper, his eyes glassing over as he stepped forward into my space. I nodded slightly, grasping the ticket from him and placing it in my back pocket without giving it a second glance. I would have plenty of time to analyze it later on. One side of his mouth rose in a twitch of a smile as he started speaking again, stuttering adorably and flushing when his mouth snapped shut in humiliation. I rose my eyebrows in expectation and he tried again but not before sighing.

"I—umm—I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. I mean, like we could drive over together and I just—I—" He rambled on, his face tomato red in embarrassment as his eyes widened in horror at how horribly he was doing with it. It seemed as if as much as he wanted his mouth to shut up, he had lost control over it. "Shit. That was so bad."

I couldn't restrain the mirthful chuckle that left my throat and it made his eyes snap towards mine in joy, his face still red but his dimples spotting his blushed cheeks. His hand inched towards my arm as he lightly touched the end of my fingers, his face so close to mine. I didn't understand how I had given him that impression, the signal that he was forgiven, but I hurried to fix my mistake.

"I'm going with Nick. Sorry," I muttered disinterestedly, not apologetic at all about how his face fell in devastation, his hand snapping back to his side and his mouth gaping open like a fish. He murmured an 'oh', the tone dejected in a way that made my heart clench against my chest. His white teeth bit his lip and he nodded slightly, hesitating a few seconds before stepping away. I frowned at the way my arm twitched by my side to pull him back towards me. Was I making a mistake in leading him to believe I had moved on? Would he give up on me?

I didn't want him to give up. I wanted him to understand that I wasn't going to wait for him while he slept around like a whore. I wasn't going to be his backup any longer. I wanted the real thing and if he liked me as much as Cato thought, than he had to fight or he would lose me.

"I will see you there, then," He managed to rasp out, giving me a fake smile that I could see through. His hand went through his hair again anxiously gripping on the locks, his other one settling on his pocket as he swayed slightly, clearly wanting to say something more but not allowing himself too. I stared at him in pleading, begging for him to try a little harder and not give up, go cuddling by Cato's side. I could see the way his eyes were drifting towards my lips, squinting in pain before moving behind me to stare at the empty cafeteria. I moved closer to him when I saw it was becoming impossible for him to make a decision, his mouth frozen in shock.

"Where were you yesterday, Marvel?" I asked him slowly, my tone loud enough to reach his ears but low enough to not echo through the hall. I noticed the way he stiffened, moving away a step, his eyes hardening into a defensive, dull green and his lips setting into a frown. Both his hands were shoved into his pockets and I could see through the material of his shorts that he was clenching his fists, the knuckles denting the jeans.

"I thought Cato told you," He snapped back, his tone rough and angry, making me falter for a step. I had never seen him that frightened and trapped. I was wondering if I was going to experience a violent Marvel, whom I had only gotten glimpses off before, screaming at Finnick and Glimmer.

"Why did you lie? I know you weren't with Clove. Where did you go, Marv?" I asked again, hearing him hiss in warning, his dark eyes threatening me to not step further into the topic while my feet simultaneously stepped closer to his trembling frame in need to ease his fear and wrap him in my arms. He backed away, shaking his head at my attempts, looking at me once with a meaningful glare before inching towards the exit, his tense back greeting my lost eyes.

"It's none of your business," He blurted out angrily as he left me behind and before I could stop myself, my hand had wrapped around his arm, pulling him backwards with all my strength. He whimpered in pain, causing me to let go as he palmed the inside of his elbow, cradling it to his chest, his eyes ablaze with fury. I was lost because there was no way I had grabbed him hard enough to cause any pain. He was stronger than I. I thought he was using his emotions to get out of a situation again but I couldn't deny the flash of agony that cut through his glassy, chartreuse eyes when my fingers dug into the soft flesh of his arm.

"What did you do—" I started muttering in fear, my eyes widening as much as his panicked ones. I was sure our hearts were beating at the same, erratic pace as well.

"Leave me alone!" He snapped back furiously making me stumble backwards a few steps before I could finish my sentence fully, my mouth shaking in fear, my voice dying in my throat. He turned around once more, heading for the escape and ramming hard into Cato's chest, the blond having approached us silently with a lazy smile, when he searched the cafeteria for his little baby I assumed.

I heard Marvel snarl in anger pushing the oblivious blond back before realizing who it was, his temper calming down, his eyes dropping to Cato's chest in submission as the taller one pulled him close again, inching him back towards me. I sighed lightly in relief when I noticed that I wouldn't be confronting Marvel alone. I didn't think I was ready to do that yet but whenever Cato was around we always managed to get the curly-haired brat under control, safe from harm.

"What's wrong, Marv?" Cato asked him in worry when the reached me and I could see Marvel biting his lip in fear, knowing he probably wouldn't be able to escape from the other's firm hold on his waist. Even though they were practically cuddling next to me, Marvel's back flush against Cato's chest as the blond lay his head on the other's shoulder, kissing his neck once, I was not jealous. I was worried. I was scared of what I was about to do.

I could see Marvel wanted to leave because he was no returning any of Cato's affection, his hands limp by his side, his face frowning in anger, his eyes icing over in fear. I knew what I had to do and my palms sweat in anticipation as I stepped in front of them both, grasping Marvel's hand and with one swift yank, pulling his long sleeve up his arm, holding him still even when he yelped in anger, whining for me to let go and flailing violently against the intrusion.

I thanked Cato for holding him still, one of his hands slipping around his waist to physically pick him off the ground, the other one holding his shaking head still by the delicate jaw. When he quieted down in defeat, we could spot the shattered look in his eyes, the tears closer than ever, inching dangerously on the sides of his green orbs. I had never seen him that upset and looking down at my discovery, I knew why.

There were three Band-Aids plastered against the thin skin of his inner elbow where I could see his veins had swollen red and puffy. I knew what I would find if I removed the bandages. I had seen the track marks on my mother's arms every time she held me to herself or snuggled me to bed. I froze at the realization that he was doing it too. I couldn't tear my eyes away from his damaged skin and I couldn't speak—if I allowed my voice to escape it would come out as a sob. My blue eyes met Cato's and I could spot the pure horror that was invading his as his hands gently trapped Marvel's arm, brining it closer to his face for examination.

"No, you didn't. Tell me you didn't, Marv. Please," Cato whispered in desperation, turning the other around so they were face to face, the tension crackling between them. One of Cato's hands kept his hold on the bruised arm so Marvel couldn't retract it away while the other one grabbed the shorter's face forcefully making the him stare at the blue in the eyes. I could see the crippling guilt in the green orbs as his lips shook out an apology, his eyes seeking mine, begging for my comfort. He was scared of the blond, towering him menacingly and glaring at him in betrayal. I wanted to help but I didn't know what to do.

"Cato, you're hurting him. Don't grab him like that," I whispered slowly, inching towards them to remove the blonde's hand from the other's surprised face, watching in fear how much Cato struggled to contain himself. I felt responsible because I had been the one to betray the secret and I had to show Marvel that it was better that way—that I would help him recover. He didn't have to hide anything from me.

"Be quiet for a second, Peeta. What is this, Marvel? What did you inject? Who fucking gave this to you?!" Cato bellowed instead, pulling him a little closer from the arm and watching with pained eyes how hard the younger flinched at the pain shooting up his forearm.

"Don't touch me," Marvel argued lightly, pulling back and the growl tearing from Cato's throat had me walking towards them, grabbing Marvel from the waist and pulling him towards me, stepping in between. I could feel Cato's glare on my back as I questioned the other boy, touching his hands with my fingers, clutching them inside mine.

"Answer his questions, Marv. He's worried about you. He won't hurt you, I promise," I murmured lightly, watching as his green eyes went to Cato in uncertainty before meeting mine. He gulped, shaking his head in denial, and I sighed heavily, turning towards Cato who was growling under his breath, his hand on my shoulder about to push me away.

"Thresh gave it to me. But it's not what he thinks. I'm not a druggie," Marvel stammered out gingerly, motioning towards Cato's furious face. I saw the blond curse under his breath, his hand clutching his hair as he paced around in frustration. My eyes panicked at the idea of Marvel sharing needles with my roommate, my heart stopping momentarily, my hands letting go off him completely as I grasped at straws in shock. He couldn't have. Thresh wouldn't have allowed him to be in danger. He wasn't vengeful—he wasn't that cruel.

"What did you take, Marv?" Cato asked again in a strained voice, approaching us exasperatingly and touching Marvel's face lightly to ease his fears. "Tell me, baby."

"Liquid Speed. I swear, Niki, I didn't do heroine even though he did. I'm sorry I lied," Marvel muttered cautiously, fidgeting with his shirt before running into the other's sighing chest, clinging to his shirt and whispering quick apologies in Russian.

"Oh, thank god," I thought I heard Cato mutter in utter relief, his voice wet in despondency, his hands hugging the other's head into his chest tenderly. He replied to Marvel's pleas, kissing his temple lightly, making him promise not to do it again.

I removed myself from the situation, walking silently away because I was unsure of what I needed to do. A lot of the times, I went on instinct when it came to them. I had known something was wrong with Marvel. I had decided that Cato needed to see it so he could help. So I had acted on it despite the fear of Cato's wrath or Marvel's pain. I had saved the situation.

When those reflexes abandoned me, making me freeze in disbelief at my courage, I was left more confused than ever, stumbling to find a purpose in my spontaneous actions. I had thought I wanted him to regret what he had done, suffer and cry like I had, but seeing the lie he had come up with clear the air of betrayal I realized that he had not cheated. He had not been with somebody else, enjoying their body while I cried my eyes out about the uselessness of mine.

I couldn't be mad at him for that offense anymore because he had found a way out of it. I cringed to think that he was damaging his body and I remembered the sense of ultimate liberation that consumed me when I didn't see the red scars on his forearm. I knew I cared about him deeply then. I didn't just have a crush. I really, _really_ liked him.

On the other side, there was Cato, handsome and attractive Cato who I flirted back and forth with but who I was certain only used me as a replacement for Marvel, the one he really wanted to kiss and cuddle. He had come through for me, picking me up from my knees in my worse times. He had been there to hug me to his chest and whisper words of comfort when I had needed him the most. He always seemed to be there yet when it came to thinking about a future with him, I couldn't imagine Marvel out of it. He had admitted it himself that he truly loved the boy with his heart and would do practically anything for him. I couldn't have Cato without Marvel and looking at the way the curly-haired Adonis collapsed in self-destruction, I couldn't handle Marvel without Cato. I needed them both and somehow they needed me too. Somehow… I had yet to figure out why.

* * *

"Make left here, man," Nick offered as I steered his small, baby car towards the street he was pointing at, his lit up cigarette, smoldering in his hand slightly before reuniting with his lips. He had come to pick me up, parking in front of the Capitol though it was a short walk from District 1 to my dorm.

I had been standing in front of the dorm, swaying nervously with my preppy beige shorts and same-colored, tight t-shirt. I hoped that nobody would go for a color as boring as beige when they were thinking of what to put together. Had it not been for the strict rules, I would have done white or black. I didn't want to be left outside though.

Nick had laughed at me in his similar violet shorts and his light purple tank top loose enough to show off most of his ink, falling down his toned chest. He motioned for me to enter the driver's side as he went around to the passenger's one, slumping on the leather seat and cranking up the music. The car was small and black, too cute for someone as dangerous as Nick could be when angered.

When I had placed my seatbelt on tentatively, staring at him in confusion, he replied that he wanted to smoke so it would be great if I could drive us there as he guided me like my own human navigator. I was starting to think they had labeled me as their private chauffer but didn't complain as I backed away into the main road, our packed bags cuddled in the small trunk of the Smart. I liked driving because it cleared my mind and I enjoyed trying out different cars, hearing the change in pitch of the running engines, feeling the difference in steering wheels and gas pedals.

He had not stopped smoking since, blabbering about how excited he was to be going, occasionally tapping at the window on his side to prompt me to turn that way. He had propped his legs on the dashboard, his hand hanging loosely outside the window, his head nodding with the trashy, techno music.

"Why did you tell Marv you were going to this thing with me?" He asked all of a sudden, his eyebrows furrowing and his lips enveloping the cigarette butt. My hands clenched on the wheel, my back straightening at the change in atmosphere. I didn't yet know how he would react. I had no idea if he would berate.

"I _am_ going with you to the thing, ain't I?" I replied plainly in return and he snorted at my sassy remark, the stupid grin lighting his face again and making my lungs inflate with air once more. He didn't seem pissed, merely discomforted.

"You know he saw more to it than this. You lead him to believe that we had something going on," He muttered and I could see his tone was becoming annoyed so I gulped in guilt, thinking about apologizing for my mistake. He didn't seem to mind being around homosexuals so I had assumed he would not be too disgusted at the thought. Maybe I had been wrong.

"I didn't mean to. I am sorry for…umm…causing you trouble," I whispered sadly and he snorted again bitterly, waving me off with his hand as it settled next to mine on the wheel to slightly veer me on my side of the road again. I hadn't noticed that my emotions were clouding my vision and we had almost crossed over to the opposing lane had it not been for his intervention. I apologized again, my eyes staring straight ahead as I heard him sigh.

"Look, I didn't mean to come at you like that. It's just that I've been through this shit once and I don't want to be involved again. I try to remain as far away from _their_ romantic drama as I can," He explained patiently, rolling his pained eyes while I glanced at him once, asking for an explanation, pleading he wouldn't end it at that without giving me some background.

"I don't know if anyone has told you of this but Cato and I used to be best friends. We practically rivaled Sonny and Marv when it came to how close we were. So it hurt when we had a little fallout back in sophomore year. It was about something like this, something fucking idiotic, and we haven't really seen eye to eye since. I just don't want to have to pick sides again. It's not fun," He admitted gravely, shaking his head and inhaling a big puff out of his cigarette, his eyes flaring at the sky in repressed fury.

"What happened exactly?" I asked in curiosity, watching the car as it bathed in darkness, the sun setting behind the mountaintops, the breeze chilling the inside and making us both shiver into the leather seats.

"Rumor had it that Marv was cheating on Cato with me back when they dated because we spent a lot of time together. I don't know which fucked up retard started it but it spread like wildfire and before I knew it, Cato was slamming me against walls and threatening me to stay away. He wasn't himself back then. He was very aggressive and he—he…_hurt _Marv quite a bit. I couldn't stand for it any longer so when he touched Marvel that day, practically yanking him away from my side from his fucking hair, I decked him in the face. We had a pretty bad fight. We both ended up in the hospital. They broke up the next week and Marvel has hid behind my back ever since," He finished after many pauses, shrugging in self-pity and chuckling at my frozen face. I composed myself, nodding at him and whispering 'I understand' under my breath though I didn't. I couldn't.

Why would Cato act like that, hurt his beloved and alienate the only friends he had by his side? Why would he believe the rumors unless Nick and Marv really did seem closer than usual? If that were the case, why would Nick lie about it still, continue living that desperate mistake? Why would Marv choose Nick over Cato that day? There were too many questions floating my mind and too many answers missing from the puzzle. The closer I got to understanding one of their personalities, the more demons appeared by my side to mess up my work, throw me off again into the abyss.

"Look, Peeta. He likes you. It's no secret. He really likes you despite what Clove or Cato want you to believe. He gets all shy around you and his cheeks blush and his eyes go wide in loss. You don't even know how protective he gets when Clove makes fun of you—how flustered and sulky. He wants to be with you badly but he is terrified of hurting you," Nick offered in a comforting tone, looking at me to gauge my expression. My cheeks had flamed and my heart was crying in happiness against my chest, wanting to go out and find him. My brain was holding it back though because I knew the path wasn't that easy. I couldn't just jump into his arms and beg him to take me. It didn't work like that.

"I honestly don't know what to do," I admitted instead, staring at him momentarily with a lost expression, shrugging my shoulders and raising my eyebrows, my lips pouting. He sighed at me, nodding.

"If you want my advice, don't go to him. I know you are going to be burning to just grab him tonight when you see everyone throwing themselves on him but don't. Bite your tongue and let him come to you. It might look like he enjoys the attention, the flirts and the compliments thrown his way but he despises it. He _hates _feeling like a prey, a piece of meat that everyone can take a bite off. That's what Cato and Finnick never understood. It makes him feel out of control. The reason he adores you is because you can give him the control he needs. He can be dominant with you and it's exhilarating for him."

Let him come to me. I could do that. I could force myself to stay put until he realized that I could give him what he really wanted. I would let him experiment, get hurt and fall down until he found the truth and when he did I would be waiting for him to join me in my realization.

I thanked Nick for his help, smiling at him lightly as he winked at me, cranking up the music to get us in the mood for the upcoming dance. He complained about wanting to pop open a beer but didn't make a move towards it. We drove comfortably, joking around as if we had known each other for longer than a week, for years of our lives. Maybe we had because he reminded me of Gale and I was glad I had him by my side as I saw the outline of the club, blasting in music and flashing in different colors, come up the side of the road.

I could see the line of bodies forming all the way around the building, the people looking excited and anxious, clad in one-colored costumes, looking exactly like a box of multi-colored crayons, the one many kids had growing up. They had taken Marvel's advice to wear t-shirts though some girls and boys were showing off skin in neon tank tops. The warehouse was big, decorated on the outside with neon lights as well as pictures of Rubik's Cubes, glittering beautifully in the dark sky. I gulped when I saw the two bodyguards, dressed in black and towering in front of the doors with stern glares and sturdy bodies. They were admitting the students one by one, asking for their tickets as another man, black-haired with a fancy suit and an even fancier beard, checked out their outfits, scribbling notes on a folder.

"Welcome to the arena, Peeta. This is where the SAE holds most dances. That over there is Seneca Crane. He works as an event coordinator for Marvel's dad and he frequently enjoys helping us plan these parties when he is in the mood. Wait until you see the inside… These people go all out," Nick muttered, flicking the cigarette bud out of the window and pointing towards an empty parking space as my heart hammered against my chest, my lips dry and my eyes panicked.

I couldn't believe I was actually doing it, breaking out of my shell of comfort and stepping in 'the arena' when I practically had no skills or weapons that would help me survive. I was too unused and though I knew my intuition would help me through the night, I hoped I didn't fuck up too bad, the music already urging my beating heart to flutter faster, the stench of alcohol making my nose refuse air. I could hear the people screaming in joy, chatting amongst each other, some shivering in the cold of the night as they waited in the line we were fortunate enough to skip, standing in front of the body guards as Nick addressed the other man whom he had referred to as Seneca.

"Head game-maker," Nick blurted out with a grin, acknowledging the other's presence, and I saw the older man chuckle, smiling lazily and waving the body guards to let us in, the wall of flesh moving aside to reveal the tiny entrance changing colors with the inside lights.

"Hey Nemy. Marv told me to let you know they are all inside. Who's the newbie? New catch?" The other man asked absent-mindedly as he searched down his list again, while Nick laughed, ignoring his question, grabbing my arm and leading us further into the dark hole of doom, my feet reluctantly following him deeper, my eyes giving one last look to the escape as it got blocked by the two large physiques again. I gulped in fear. I was trapped. There was no way to get out until the sun rose in the morning. I couldn't run and hide. I couldn't do what I had done all my life, merging myself with the shadows and waiting silently for the time to pass, the darkness to dissipate.

The sun had set early and the nightfall was there to stay. Stay until I battled it, defeated it to the point that I didn't fear it anymore. Stay until the very end of the conflict where I had faced the demons that scared me sleepless every night of my miserable childhood. Stay until I could come out victorious, proud of my achievements and happy with my decisions.

Stay until the sun came out again to light the road ahead because forward was the only way and as I entered the main room, I was bombarded with how fast too fast time had passed by.

Nick smiled at me lightly, throwing an arm around my shoulder and pointing in the direction of the massive crowd, fluctuating like the sea at night, ominous yet mysteriously inviting. I followed his gaze to see his beautiful face in the strobe lights of the night as his green eyes made contact with mine and he smiled his gorgeous grin, winking slightly and blowing a kiss in my direction.

I thought about backing out as I snapped my eyes away but I saw Cato staring at me curiously all the way on the side of the room by the drinks, Clove gazing at me in interest by his side and Thresh raising his eyebrows in expectation behind them both. It all seemed to click together so I allowed Nick to lead me further into the unfamiliar territory knowing that I had travelled…

…_a bridge too far._


	17. As the Actress Said to the Bishop

**Chapter 15: As the Actress Said to the Bishop**

_Peeta's POV (Friday)_

The music blasted out of the gigantic, black speakers situated on either corner of the huge, rectangle-shaped room, filled with sweating bodies and alive with uncontained excitement. At the very top of the room, the furthest away from me, I could spot the DJ, young and energetic, no older than twenty-five, his fingers sliding across the multitude of machines and dancing along with the beat. The lights flashed different colors, all neon and powerful enough to enlighten everyone's face in a diverse tone. They fluctuated alongside the beat of the music, sometimes maintaining their shade for a long time and at other times flashing dangerously in a seizure-inducing symphony of natures.

People liked to group in the middle, only few dancing by the DJ in groups. The rest were squished as closely as possible to the person next to them, touching occasionally in the way that made them lose rhythm for a moment to apologize. The groups danced in circles, every member facing the others, their smiles wide and some of their lips pursed in concentration. The solid-colored outfit remained on very few of them, the rest already having exchanged their first article, throwing off their look, the colors clashing horridly in contrast. I could see why they called it the Rubik's Cube dance very clearly then. In addition to the lit-up flashy floor in the design of the colorful cube, the people's bodies mixed together to create a pattern of mixed up shades, the people moving around and undressing to create the illusion of shifting blocks like the ones the awed audience saw when watching a professional complete a Rubik's Cube in less than five minutes.

The song playing was some time of dancy house song with trashy lyrics. It was clearly chosen by the leaders because I had heard the same tune blast in the car with Nick and Marv that time he made the car bounce of the speed-bump.

"_Can you keep up? With my body moving back and forth like speakers? When I'm dancing you can barely see my sneakers. Can you spin me like a record? Spin me like a record?"_

My nose scrunched up at the idiotic lyrics though I was certain the shaking and writhing bodies did not mind, their ears only working out the catchy tune. The heavy bass dropped every so often taking with it the flailing torsos and the attached limbs of the teenagers. Girls seem to like grinding up against guys who enjoyed their ministrations with lidded eyes and wandering hands. I blushed looking at their intimate dance. Did they even know each other? I couldn't imagine what they were feeling but my curiosity had sharply risen and I hadn't noticed how hard I had been staring longingly until Nick grasped my forearm in his rough hands, pulling me through the random people, separating from the mass to brush their sweat away, to drag my feet against the slippery floor.

I followed him willingly after the first startle, trying my best to not let my sneaky, darting eyes find Marvel again because while I had been looking at the blonde girl push against the jocky-looking guy, I had not seen the green-eyed sex symbol disappear in the garden of flesh. It was for the best that I didn't let my mind get too attached just incase my spontaneity decided to act on stupidity again. I had to remain in control.

It was too dark for me to properly see where Nick was heading to, as my mind briefly wondered why we were not joining Thresh and Cato, whose blue eyes dropped in disappointment at my retreating form before both boys turned towards the sexy, Hispanic bartender, leaning on the black, marble bar to ask them what they wanted, the bottles of expensive alcohol gleaming notoriously in the back.

When Nick finally halted his march, I looked ahead again, breaking eye contact with the nodding bartender and the grinning dorm mates, motioning for him with their hands, excitedly chattering amongst each other while the employee grabbed one of the bottles with clear liquid fluidly, his other hand bringing out a couple of shot glasses, his long fingers inside their small contents.

Nick had stopped us in front of Katniss, who was smirking at me in her usual semi-cynical way, her wavy, brown hair falling messily down her shoulders, not braided, and her eyes flashing almost white against the lights. She was wearing a white tank top, her white shorts short enough to leave the pockets hanging out next to her smooth thighs. She did not seem to have exchanged anything yet and the redheaded boy next to her hadn't either, his black tank top, stretching against his bulky frame, his jeans too tight to probably fit anyone else in that dance floor.

I had seen the guy before during our soccer practice though he was part of the group of boys who were unnecessarily annoying with piercing laughers and bullying comments. I had not approached him and I had originally thought Nick and him weren't really close. I always had this feeling that he was preparing a coup against our captain but seeing as I was paranoid, I just shut my mouth and frowned at his pranks. I couldn't understand why we had paid them a visit, settled awkwardly at the edge of the party and cuddling standing up in that distant way that allowed them both to preserve their arrogance and pride.

"Peet', this is Darius. He's a defender in our soccer team, remember? His girlfriend, Katniss, I believe you have no—" Nick started talking, facing me and pointing towards the two who kept staring amusedly, both already very sure of who I actually was and how tight my connection with the mafia who I knew Katniss at least did not very much like, was. When my eyes hurried to jump away from the ginger's, he smiled so wide that I thought for a minute I had changed his entire day. I moved backwards a step, running into Nick's frame with a grunt before he pushed me back to my original position. I was feeling trapped and I started hating Nick for it. What was happening? I wanted Cato.

"We've met. Peeta, here, is in my English class with Brutus," Katniss silkily piped in, her eyes finding mine as she offered me a smile that I did not believe was very authentic though my previous opinion of her as a cold-hearted bitch could have affected that judgment. She did not mention Cato at all and the thought of the blond was rampaging through my mind with such clarity, I wanted to look back.

Darius kept staring at me with his chocolate-brown eyes, his vision never turning towards Nick the entire time. He had that twinkle in his eyes and that playful smile on his lip that told me, somehow I had made his night better without even having to speak a word. He rapidly moved to wrap an arm around Katniss and pull her to himself with such speed that the movement made me slightly flinch. I blinked my eyes in surprise and recoiled a little bit, swaying sideways into Nick who laughed about me being a 'ditz' and steadied me with an arm around my shoulders as well, mimicking the evil couple, an action I noticed to my surprise that crudely entertained Darius who smirked slyly, lowering his eyes and finally looking away. I couldn't understand but having Nick so close calmed me down because I knew he would never be on that side. He would never betray Marvel so why was he hanging out with people who despised him in the first place?

"You never told me you had Brutus? How is he? Is he making your life miserable?" Nick asked towards me lightly, oblivious to my discomfort, his arm finally moving to give me some space to regain my dignity and discolor my flushing cheeks. I nodded not because I agreed but because I had nothing else to say and my mind was too concentrated on decoding the way Darius was at that moment staring through me to understand his question properly.

I was about to turn around when I saw Katniss' crystal eyes snap behind me as well but I didn't get the chance because his gruff, booming voice was suddenly so close to me and my skin shivered in surprise, my eyes blinking rapidly and nervously, as the two tall, buff boys from my dorm came over, their hands holding trays of little shots perked innocently on top, lemon slices gracing their wet, salty tops. The liquid inside was as transparent as water and that made my heart calm a little though my brain knew it was not innocent water—it has heavy alcohol and I was about to taste the first in my life. My mouth went dry, almost needing it.

"Shots, guys, to start the night?" Cato murmured in the most pleasantly-fake voice I have ever heard him muster, his gaze landing briefly on Nick whose upper lip snarled slightly by instinct, before moving to Darius who he sized up for longer than normal, their eyes battling and Cato's teeth baring a little in a display of violence. No matter what their past had been, they clearly did not like each other. That was not a big surprise. Katniss coughed slightly, plastered to Darius' side but Cato's baby blues never gave her a chance, still glaring at the way the redhead raised his eyebrows in expectation. I had learned to read Cato and I knew he wanted nothing more than to punch the boy in the mouth and break his teeth.

Thresh stood behind Cato unwavering, his dark, obsidian eyes also landing on the couple, guarded against the possible threat. His form looming in the background made Darius stiffen in defense before pulling away and looking towards the shots. I imagined Thresh could fight and I knew Cato could destroy people. I wondered if both boys teamed up against Darius, which side would Nick take then. Would he join the fight against Cato again? My heart complained against the imagery. I couldn't stand watching them hurt each other. I cared.

I felt Katniss offer a plastic smile back, picking a strand of her hair and placing it behind her ear gently before going for one of the shot glasses, gradually picking it up and pulling it towards her body. As soon as she made the move, the tension was somewhat broken and I saw Darius and Nick reach for theirs, the latter offering me one with a faint, reassuring smile as his body moved closer to me so we could all become a circle.

As soon as he was close enough to touch arms with me, Cato's eyes snapped towards mine in warning, staring heatedly in a way that told me he wasn't happy—he was demanding I pushed the black-haired boy away. I gulped in defiance and stayed put, one of my hands moving away from the glassy shot-glass to lightly touch Nick's toned back in a friendly way, feeling the wetness of the flimsy tank top and grasping it between my fingers like a small child. Cato pursed his lips in a sneer, rolling his eyes in a demeaning way, while Nick didn't seem bothered by my advances, turning slightly towards me and giving me a small grin, ruffling my hair with his free hand before returning to the tense middle.

I stared anxiously at the undisturbed liquid in fear, trying to stall for time by gazing nervously at the others, holding their shots, as Glimmer bounced towards us gracefully, her hair up in a tight bun and her eyes shadowed by silver, glow in the dark make-up that made her look like some kind of otherworldly princess. She seemed happier than usual though her eyes were still reddened and her nose raw, telling me she had yet to recover fully. I wondered if it was healthy for her to have alcohol but something in the way she drawled when she said hi and giggled when Thresh made a face at her told me she just wanted to have one night where she forgot about it all. She wanted to sense the relief as much as I. I couldn't ruin that for her.

She reached her delicate hand through the buff boys and Thresh helped her to one with a grin as she thanked him for the help, inching towards the circle as well. Our eyes met and hers melted in warmth so my lips turned upwards to offer a sign of gratitude back. It seemed that all of us were then ready to proceed as we extended our hands towards the middle, mine following the lead of the others hesitantly, the fingers shaking slightly. All the glasses touched each other slightly, my eyes nervously watching the way Cato immediately glared at Darius opposite him, smiling slyly.

"Oh but wait, this is not all of us, Cato." I thought I heard Nick sharply hiss in warning while Glimmer looked down pursing her lips in exasperation. "Where's the little, _ecchi_one? We must wave him over," Darius murmured silkily, retreating his hand suddenly, breaking the weird ritual and causing Nick and Katniss to retreat as well while Cato's mouth fell open in disbelief. It seemed Darius was one of the few that liked to play with the devil. He was standing unperturbed, using his other hand to wave wildly at the massive crowd, a wide, sadistic smile on his lips, his eyes infuriated with sated rage.

I didn't quite grasp what he had said that made the rest of the mafia children inhale sharply; I was certain that the word wasn't English though it seemed awfully familiar. I knew it had been insulting though because Thresh growled 'fuckin' asshole' viciously under his breath, his dark eyes squinting in anger, and Nick muttered 'watch it' dangerously, glaring at his teammate. I saw the cautious way my roommate held Cato back by his light blue t-shirt, the blond glaring bottomless holes into the other's oblivious thick skull, his eyes dark with abhorrence, his nostrils flared, his entire upper body tensing in ferocity.

Nick shifted beside me in reaction, pulling me roughly behind his back and subtly moving closer to the action in case Cato did decide to break the rules and go for the kill, his body already screaming he was in the offensive. I thought the couple could feel the tension that had Glimmer's mood deflated, her shoulders slumped in defeat, but apparently they didn't care because Katniss soon joined in the stupid motioning that had Marvel snapping his head towards us, his eyes squinting in confusion and the smile faltering slightly before riding back out on his features. He hesitated and it wasn't because he was caught off guard—it was because he already knew exactly what he was walking into by stepping closer to us.

Nevertheless, I saw him pull a bouncy, orange-clad Sonny by the edge of his Naruto graphic t-shirt, the other boy yelping in surprise, as they both stumbled through the crowd to approach us, meeting Clove halfway through, who latched onto Marvel's arm happily, her bangs sticking to her forehead slightly from the sweat, her face flushed in joy.

I held my breath, biting my lip hard, as they approached slowly and I heard Nick mumble 'relax' to make my lungs inflate again against the pressure of having to be close to him again, analyze his perfectly-sculpted features and smell his intoxicating aroma. I stared at Clove as she blurted out stories to him, motioning wildly over the music and making him laugh sincerely enough for his eyes to shine lime. I found it fascinating that I wanted to be her even though she had much less than I would ever have.

I looked towards Cato's controlled face when Marvel uttered his first words to the group because I wasn't ready to face his reaction yet. He had not made a move and therefore I couldn't. I had to be less than a step away from him without the possibility of touching him because if I moved towards him, I would lose him—the illusion would shatter and I would be hurt by the shards as they crumbled towards the floor, taking with them my imagine of him as the perfect boyfriend. I had to wait it out; I had to follow advice for once because my way had only gotten me close enough for a taste and far enough to feel the distance between us.

Clove's small body squeezed into the circle with an exclamation of childlike glee when she noticed the offered refreshment, her red nails wrapping around the glass without hesitation, her eyes only wavering on Katniss for one second, her eyebrows raising sharply. They exchanged unorthodox greetings as Close murmured 'bitch', settling on Nick's other side, Katniss returning her favor with a harsh 'whore' that had Glimmer wide-eyed and expecting the short girl's nonexistent comeback.

Sonny tugged his shirt towards his face to wipe the sweat off his brow, revealing his surprisingly toned abdomen before smiling hugely at the group in that innocent way of his. I thought it appropriate that he was wearing that shirt considering how much his personality mimicked the hyperactive blonde's from the famous ninja series. I also found it brave that he could pull it off without worry that he wasn't 'cool' enough with it clinging on his always-active body. He noticed my insistent gaze, mouthing 'what's up' with a grin though we had never interacted before. Nothing seemed to dampen his mood as he finally picked up two glasses, his fingers touching the liquid carelessly. He called for Marvel in the midst of the loud music: 'Yo, Sash,' stretching backwards to hand over the glass.

The curly-haired boy, who seemed to be the center of Darius' attention, palmed the offered glass, stepping towards Cato who took a deep breath before looking away from his enemy's brown eyes to face the green ones beside him, staring up in worry. We were all awaiting their interaction with bated breath but they seemed to silently comfort each other as Cato nodded to their mental understanding, his lips smiling very faintly at the boy in front of him. They did not move to touch each other, which I found unordinary, considering how much Cato liked to kiss him hello. I imagined Darius' presence had a lot to do with their seemingly distant greeting.

As we all turned towards the middle, Marvel smiled lightly to himself, his eyes looking up to the group but not facing who I thought they would, the instigator, Darius, but turning towards me and my unprepared façade. He gazed at me silently, cocking his head sideways, his lips a gorgeous, shy smile, his fingers tapping on the glass wet with condensed water.

I wanted to smile so badly if only to see his smile grow wider but I gulped the desire down, nodding slightly in acknowledgement and watching brokenly as he pouted a bit with his sultry lips before turning his attention back towards the middle, the glass firmly in his hand, the liquid only having spilled slightly in his skin from his hesitation.

We finally cheered, our hands meeting in the middle, the alcohol spilling from one glass to another as the containers clunk against each other jauntily. I heard Cato mutter reluctantly between his gritted teeth 'to an eventful night' which had Sony chuckling slightly in innocence, rapidly joined by Clove's annoying giggle, Nick sighing heavily next to me, Marvel looking towards my hopeful eyes with a indiscernible expression and Darius smirking profusely towards the smaller of the two Russian boys.

I saw most of them pour the poison in their mouth with a speedy movement, gulping immediately with cringed faces, when I removed the lemon gingerly, letting the bitter taste roll down my tongue and into my esophagus, burning its way towards my stomach with fiery speed. I finally saw the need to flinch because it tasted nasty and if I had not been in public, it might have activated my gag reflex. I was still recovering from the experience when my squinted, teary eyes saw the rest of them sucking feverishly on the lemon, the sour taste not affecting them as the tension broke again.

By the time I had stopped feeling guilty about discarding my lemon on the empty glass, Thresh had pulled out a fat, black sharpie, one of those permanent ones that smelled funky, and was going around to each and everyone in the circle as they presented their smooth forearms. I noticed in fascination that most of their skin already had a couple of lines drawn on it with the marker from before, the lines parallel to each other running towards the wrist much like the scars I had seen on Marvel's arms before. I pointed towards the process in puzzlement, nudging Nick slightly on the ribs, and he nodded in understanding, whispering to me as my eyes analyzed how willingly most were to be marked.

"It's a strike system. You get one every time you take a shot, a cocktail or a wine glass. Each is the equivalent of one standard drink. It's so people keep track and don't get completely trashed. It also helps others know if you need a hospital or a bed," Nick explained patiently, as I nodded in understanding, presenting my forearm to Thresh who smiled at me brightly, acknowledged me with a 'hey blondie' and proceeded to slash through my veins with black. One. I briefly wondered how many I would open my eyes to tomorrow before dismissing the thought as one only an alcoholic would deliberate.

Everyone moved away after they were finished, inching from the tension. I saw Thresh forcefully drag Cato away from towering the redhead into the wall behind him. Darius actually chuckled when the blonde's hand slapped the wall next to his face intimidatingly. He and Katniss remained aloof and isolated from the group as Glimmer choose to follow the two boys, exchanging a wary glance with the brunette, holding Darius' massive hand. I looked towards Nick for instructions, feeling my tummy grow warmer and my limbs float lighter. My tongue already felt less constricted and I imagined it was the alcohol in my empty stomach that called all the shots that night.

Clove dragged the two boys back into the dance floor excitedly, screaming over the music and waving her hands towards the DJ who had pleased the crowd immensely with his current selection, his colorfully-stripped hair held back by his huge headphones. He mouthed a lollipop on one side of his mouth as his eyes darted towards the many discs, his hands urging the crowd on, thrown in the air and bouncing to the beat.

The crowd moaned in agreement at the beginning of the song while the three next to me all shrieked about the hit being 'their jam', their bodies finding a place close enough for me to watch but further enough from the crowd for them to be able to move freely, dancing in front of each other with enthusiasm and elegance. I didn't even know how they recognized the song because the music had barely started, the small whistle in the background, the female singer making some sort of speech in front of it that had me glaring angrily at the way Marvel's lips moved perfectly in sync with all the words, his face smirking and his eyes naughty—naughty! That's what 'ecchi' meant in Japanese, used to describe their freaky hentai shit.

"_Oh my god. I am heartily sorry for having offended thee and I detest all my sins because I drank the loss of heaven and the pain of hell. But most of all because I love thee and I want so_badly_to be good."_

The beat dropped into an electronic-pop remix that I had commonly heard with Lady Gaga and Kesha, though I was certain the woman singing was neither of them. Their bodies writhed to the sound in slow waves that left nothing to the imagination and my mouth practically fell open at how sexual they were being, their hips swaying and thrusting to the music, their hands roaming their bodies as Marvel tentatively raised his shirt over his stomach to flex his abs for the curious eyes of the crowd, his mouth snarling in that sexual way, his teeth gnawing on his full bottom lip.

His smirk was still on his face even when his eyes fell to the many hungry ones observing him with drool on their mouths as he moved as stylishly as a ballerina and as seductively as a stripper. I knew he had done it before, danced professionally, because even Clove and Sonny who were pretty good couldn't keep up with him.

He was clearly very familiar with the tune because he could play with the music and experiment with the movement, matching the upbeat tune and acting out the lewd lyrics with an expression on his face that I always imagined would be on him in that moment of pleasurable climax that I so wanted to provide for him ever since he had gone down on me, my butt nestled in his soft bed, my mouth panting his name repeatedly.

When his hand moved to thread into his curls, yanking them back intensely, I saw the four stripes of sharpie marking his tanned forearm and I realized he was way past that beginning rush.

I was mesmerized by his presence, my eyes sliding down his figure hungrily, my pants already tighter than usual, the briefs feeling constricting to my half-hard length. The room felt hotter, suffocating with sexual tension, and the moment his lidded eyes fell on my voyeuristic form, I wanted to do things to him that without the alcohol I wouldn't have been courageous enough to admit. I wanted to ride him like those little twinks did in porn. I wanted him to smear my face white. I paled at my own crude mind, my member appreciating the bonus imagery.

He smirked wider, squinting sexily, and I licked my upper lip slowly enough to see him lose rhythm for one second as his darkened eyes fell on my mouth. Come and get it, Marvie.

He kept staring back, singing along with the song, his dancing having inched a little closer, his hands moving up his body as he gave me every model pose in the book, that pouty, mysterious look that graced the covers of every fashion magazine. My hands were itching to touch him so I shoved them in my pockets, gripping the material of the pants with an unnecessarily rough grasp. I wasn't giving up but he wasn't backing down either, smiling ferociously when he noticed my stubborn attitude.

"You're driving him insane. He's never had this happen to him before," Nick murmured, chuckling in humor as he took continuous sips from his green, beer bottle, occasionally chatting with the people standing next to us. His words strengthened my resistance and I thanked him because I knew he noticed I was wavering. He was the only one who was actually making an effort to help me and Marvel the way we really needed it.

Marvel noticed the interference, glaring at Nick in mock anger as the boy next to me shrugged in a fake innocent way that even I could see through. Sending silent messages was an ability of theirs and I wanted to learn how to do it. In response to Nick's aggressive smirk, Marvel childishly pointed his tongue out and only then did I notice the small blue orb in the middle of it, gleaming in the dark and reflecting the shifting lights. I gaped at it for the second that it flashed in front of me, trying to remember if it was always there. I had kissed him before and it had definitely not been there—I had done a tongue scan of that sweet, skilled mouth.

"He has a tongue piercing? Since when?" I asked in astonishment, turning towards Nick with raised eyebrows. I wasn't sure what I was showing him and I really didn't want to sound too excited about the discovery. I was fascinated by the tattoo and piercing culture though I knew I would never be able to pull one off. Besides, I had seen people do crazy tricks with that kind of toy. It was a turn-on.

"Since forever. He has a couple of piercings—he just avoids showing them off in school. His parents don't know and they'd throw a _fit_ if any of the teachers told. He has one on his eyebrow too and one right here," He mentioned casually, pointing to the left side of his mouth, right under his lower lip. "You can see the holes if you look closely."

I nodded, my lips pursing together in interest and awe. It was a whole difference side of him and it created another layer to his character. He clearly went against the order of his parents to break his skin, the parents who probably told him it ruined his 'natural' beauty and made him look like a degenerate. The most beautiful baby in the world, genetically engineering to be perfect, to not need any alterations, had deliberately changed his body, taken some sort of control to ruin that image that was already built without his choice. He had rebelled in that little way of his and no matter what anyone would tell him if they found, I would always respect him for it. I hadn't even seen him with all of them on but I already knew he would look sexier. It would break that innocent baby-like face to show a side of what he really was like on the inside, a little minx.

I was enjoying the display until I noticed the two petite, rambunctious girls, standing in the corner awkwardly before inching towards him, one of them nervously edging forward while the other one pushed her excitedly, openly pointing at the two boys. They were both wearing neon-colored crop tops that left most of their flat, pierced stomachs revealed, the writing on the shirt spelling 'Rage'. I knew Marvel noticed they were there because he followed my glare in their direction before he and Sonny exchanged a playful look, the curly-haired boy's head shaking slightly as he looked down, never losing track of his rhythm. He seemed disinterested but my blood had started boiling and the closer they approached the darker my glower became.

Clove, who I had thought the main threat, had already squished up her small, curvy exterior on a big, bulky boy that could practically snap her in half with his muscled arms. He had to bend his knees a little to reach her level and if she wanted to kiss him, she had to go up on her tippy-toes. They were both swaying to the beat, their hips attached like glue and the boy's gruff, slightly unshaven face nuzzled in her long neck, as her eyes winked towards the boys in front of her when she noticed the giggling bystanders courageously stepping in between them with big smiles on their faces and fluttering eyelashes on their sizzling eyes. I thought I saw her roll her eyes and I absurdly found myself wishing she had done something to intervene.

Each girl stopped before one of the guys, the blond, curly-haired one quickly getting closer to Marvel than I was comfortable with, frowning sulkily and crossing my arms in the sidelines while Cato, the most territorial about Marvel out of all of us, chuckled mockingly, shaking his head in pity and going back to his conversation with Thresh. He was unperturbed even when the girl slid her hands under Marvel's shirt, riding them upwards slowly, her frame swaying with the music, her ass the most prominently moved area, as her fingers dragged the t-shirt off Marvel's accepting form, the latter raising his arms with a smirk to let it slip off him, his toned body naked in front of the girl's lusty eyes.

I whimpered, actually audible expressed my pain, seeing for the first time the reality, that I wasn't the only one to witness him like that, vulnerable and shimmery, moaning under my touch. It hurt even though I already knew I was practically getting with a whore. It hurt even more when I accidentally called him that in my mind, knowing that he would be devastated if I actually slipped it out. He wasn't like that yet he was. I was confused, my eyes betraying my soul and forcing me to witness every advance the girl made of him as she moved to strip off her own shirt. I wanted Cato to act! Why was he just standing there, not caring enough to even give her a second glance?

Her black, lacy, push-up bra was revealed glimmering in the lights and I recoiled in disgust at the soft cleavage while Marvel barked a surprised laughter, turning around amused and hiding his embarrassment behind his hand. The girl offered the shirt to the blushing boy and he tried to take it with as much grace as possible, avoiding her cleavage though she was doing everything to push it in his darting sight. I could practically hear his nervous giggles as he searched Sonny's eyes in that 'Is this real life' sort of way. I couldn't tell if it was the same type of nervous he showed with me. Something told me it wasn't though because I could see his eyes weren't dilated and his lip was bit in effort, his hands not fluttering to touch hers when they exchanged garments.

The neon crop top fell on his toned body, his abs completely naked and his eyes twinkling in glee more excited at the new garment than at the girl standing naked and pouting in front of him, huffing lightly at the way he was joking around with Sonny, ignoring her failed frame. The Japaense boy seemed to be adamant on keeping his lovely, Naruto t-shirt and he was playing tug of war with the brunette who kept insisting she had it as he shook his head incredulous.

The blonde with the boobs eventually gave up, slumping the over-sized t-shirt on her curvy body and going for a second approach as she imitated Clove, her hands grabbing Marvel's hesitant arms and leading them around her small waist, her ass nestled against the front of his pants, grinding slowly into his lower body, her lip bit in what she thought was sexy and alluring. He didn't move away!

"Don't Peet'. Be strong, buddy," Nick murmured against my ear, pulling me back with an arm around my waist and only then did I realize I had started stomping towards the dance floor with the sole purpose of wiping the floor with her squished up, disproportionate face. I wanted to fight! For god's sake, I just wanted to show him I was better. I wanted to participate in getting him back and not stand aside while others made him forget about me—while he thought I didn't care enough to be good for him! I wanted to just take my fury onto someone so it didn't fester to hurt my own body.

"He's letting her!" I whined low in my throat, my voice wet and desperate, my body calming down enough for him to let me go without fear of my escape. I stood stiff, hugging myself and glaring at his eyes as they searched on the other side towards the dance floor for something I had yet to realize. I wished he would turn my way so he sensed my disapproval, so maybe he understood he was hurting me.

Nick sighed heavily, shaking his head, the bottle of beer in his hand and a new strike on his arm. His gray eyes went to analyze the cheater before returning towards mine, his finger pointing subtly for the dance floor as he muttered loud enough for me to hear over the loud music.

"He's not. He's waiting for an out. It's usually Sonny who gives it to him but as you can see he…" Nick started before turning towards the Japanese boy who had won the battle of shirts and was now busy snogging with the other short girl, her fingers in his sleek hair, his hands on her plump ass as their movement got slow and awkward, their attention solely on the kissing. "Someone from his team is gonna give him the salvation kiss. See, look, there's Sam."

I didn't have time to ask Nick what a 'salvation kiss' actually was because the boy named Sam, who I knew was on his hockey team and had bothered Marvel when he was on the phone with Cato that day, had emerged from the crowd, rolling his eyes and pushing other people as they stumbled on to him and clung on his tight clothes. He wore a black V-neck and a pair off-white sweats as he strolled towards Marvel, his deep black eyes smiling and his long, raven hair ruffled by his fidgeting hands. He was smaller than Marvel, slim and short. He looked like a porcelain doll because he was quite pale and the lights of the party combined with the contrast of the shirt made him look inhumane. He was pretty I remarked.

The girl noticed his arrival, glaring at him unattractively with her angry eyes, her movements becoming erratic as the raven boy winked at her once, stopping beside them and smiling like a maniac. Before the girl could open her mouth to complain, his pale fingers had woven through Marvel's locks and their smirking lips attached in a simple, innocent, fluttery kiss, both their eyes remaining open and challenging. I was too shocked to laugh when the girl screeched offended at the 'faggots', Sam pulling back just in time to avoid the slap that graced Marvel's left cheek, reddening the smooth skin with an angry bruise.

She seemed more hurt by it than he was though because he shrugged carelessly, grinning sheepishly without even palming his cheek, his eyes staying more on Sam's amused ones than on the girl's whose devastated eyes got glassier every second. Some sort of decision was made and the boys pretended to look smitten with each other until the girl stomped off at which point they burst in laughter, Marvel ruffling Sam's hair affectionately before the smaller boy walked towards the bar at a leisurely pace. I heard Marvel scream 'thank you, kiddo' to the retreating boy who dismissed it with a wave of a hand that turned into a bird-flipping gesture at the nickname.

I turned towards Nick for an explanation, expecting to hear something along the lines of 'Marvel's previous bottom' because fuck that pretty face could be nothing but that. I flinched prematurely at the response. Nick just shrugged passively though, muttering, "Sammy's not gay. Like, at all. Don't worry. It's some weird Varsity hockey bromance thing. We won't make you do it in Soccer unless…"

He winked at me, giving me a fake seductive face, pulling out the duck lips and chuckling heartily. I sighed in relief, ecstatic to hear that I wouldn't be having any more competition. I smiled a little more when noting that Marvel was back to dancing with Clove who had managed to get the big guy's hands off her little body with some difficulty. They were not touching, opting for moving in front of each other and fooling around with stupid, amateur dance moves that had me rolling my eyes. I would never believe that there would be a day where I would be happy he was with Clove, grateful and assured.

Somehow though that day, ever since she offered me that bitter, cold coffee, I knew she was secretly on my side and that she was not a threat anymore. The only threat was Marvel's own past and until he could overcome that barrier, I would be standing there unsatisfied, burning in jealously and cringing in pain. I could only wait so long, my eyes already darting towards Cato's loud, bouncy self as he interacted with other students at the bar, directing them and entertaining them, his ass sitting on the marble and his legs swinging off the edge. I hoped he made the right choice. I hoped I made the right choice.

My hand inched towards Nick's beer and I grasped it off him, bringing the bitter, yellowish liquid to my dried, bitten lips and swallowing the contents fast enough to not taste the flavor but slow enough to feel the cool liquor freshen my sweating brow and my scorched throat. I could see Nick from the corner of my eye as he stared at me amusedly, shaking his head at my approach, but he didn't move to take it away from me or add another strike to my hand. He just let me down the alcohol and feel the comforting relaxation drool down my body and lull my mind into sleep, the voices in my head shutting up for a minute to question each other on the origin of that peaceful aura. I realized with my tendency towards relief and my genetics I could become prone to alcohol addition. I knew the thought should have scared me and yet the liquid dripped down my throat until my eyes burned for air and the bottle dropped on the floor empty without breaking. I was too scared to admit that I wanted another one.

"There's other ways, ya know? To cope? Why don't you try making him feel like you did? Plenty of sluts here—look, all of those southern belles over there are staring at you openly," Nick pointed out, grinning at the three tall blondes at the edge of the dance floor, wearing short jeans and skimpy tank tops. They were indeed glancing backwards every so often and since Nick pointed their attention out, I made eye contact with the tallest one in the middle, her eyes beckoning me forward, her lips curving into a sultry smile.

I thought about it, about going there and shoving my body against hers, bending her forward like I would want to slam Marvel in that bar, his face drooling against the shimmery marble—I could make him forcibly notice me. I thought about all the violent scenarios in great detail, licking my lips subconsciously, and it surprised me to notice that I wasn't horrified at the vivid imagery. My brain accepted it indifferently and when I heard the whimpering moan of encouragement that the naked Marvel in my imagination released from his swollen lips, his flushed cheek against the cool marble, my pants twitched uncomfortably. I was losing control of my impulses and I couldn't afford to risk going near her in case I did something I would regret when I woke up a father.

I looked away immediately, my eyes dropping to the packet of cigarettes that Nick was clutching in his hand, the red Marlboro sign neon in the black lights. I knew I shouldn't have been listening to my intoxicated brain that night because it couldn't have possible made rational decisions. The alcohol had effectively trapped my thoughts hostage and let my emotions roam the streets free, destroying the nerves that allowed me to control my body.

It was too late to go back though and with one last look towards Marvel's giggling, gorgeous self, I grabbed the pack of his hands and moved towards the balcony divided by glass doors that had taped on them a cigarette sign. They obviously advertised underage smoking and drinking, clearly knowing that it was illegal for students to participate in such activities. I wondered how much the school administration actually knew since they forbid any substance abuse. They were obviously kept in the dark and I knew it had probably something to do with that blue-eyed bearded man, letting us in at the entrance with a sly smile.

"Easy, boy. You're biting off a little more than you can chew here, champ," Nick warned me seriously, extending his hand to retrieve the pack back but I shook my head stubbornly making him raise his eyebrows in a mix of surprise and expectation. My attitude was catching him off guard and he gave me a bewildered look when I shrugged, inching further away from him, walking backwards towards the staircase leading to the outside, running into a couple of girls that screeched and whined at my lack of apology. Bitches.

"How 'bout you provide company for those lovely ladies while I get a breath of fresh air? Hmm? Just let me have a night, Nick. I won't wake up with cancer," I muttered huskily, snorting a little at my own comment, while he rolled his eyes and gave me a smirk, muttering 'What have I done to you.'

I left him behind, staring at my back, and I looked around to spot everyone. Thresh, Cato and Glimmer were by the bar, a drink in hand and cigarettes between their lips or fingers, laughing freely with each other. I was surprised to note that they had decided to smoke inside before I remembered that they were mafia children and they could do anything that pleased their overinflated egos.

I hadn't known that Glimmer smoked and looking at her elegantly place the slim stick in between her rosy lips, the smoke exhaled with a finesse that I never thought a crude act such as smoking could ever have, only broke that last straw of defense in my body. I had been so against smoking. I had looked down on people who deliberately injured themselves like idiots. I had mocked the followers that did it to be 'cool', berated them patronizingly. Yet there I was, walking up the wooden stairs towards the chilly breeze outside, knowing that I wanted to try, that the temptation was too great. The pressure to conform had risen above any normal standard and I was left wondering how great could the act really be.

As much as I hated to admit it, it did make people look more sophisticated, more intimidating, more mature. It changed how you saw them and suddenly I knew I had been pulled too deep, that they had invaded my mind and changed my psyche. I thought I was pure; I thought I was innocent. They had transformed me into one of them without offering the protection necessary for the position. I felt fooled and the hurt was more scathing than ever.

It was only after I snapped myself out of my morbid, self-harming thoughts that I noticed I had already been smoking, my fingers moving fluently to insert the bitter smoke in my mouth, my nostrils flaring to expel it without much effort, the coughs not present like the first time, the foreign aspect non-existent. I could do it with my eyes closed and the taste tingled my tongue in nostalgia. I dropped the cigarette on the floor, watching it fly through the air to land on the grassy ground, when I observed how professionally I could hold it, easily imitating the patterns I had seen with Cato and Nick, who I knew had done it for some time. It felt as comfortable on my fingers as a pen.

I was frozen in complete shock, my hands white and cold against the metallic railing, my eyes wide and my cheeks pale though the blistering wind should have made them rosy. The memories flashed briefly in my mind as the breeze caressed my wavy, long, blond hair, now falling a little past my deafened ears. My throat clogged so my mouth went dry without the saliva and my whole frame shook.

I knew then that I had never been innocent because that act, that rotten, fucked up act of poisoning yourself with cancerous smoke and addicting yourself to narcotics, that act of self-pity, I knew I had done before. I couldn't remember quite when but I was certain because the bitterness felt oddly familiar, the comfort almost expected and satisfying.

I placed my face in my shaking hands and took a deep breath of fresh, cooling air. I counted to ten out loud, the words tumbling out of my mouth and my lips moving against the comforting air. I felt my brain slow down, the dizziness decreasing and the sharpness of my thoughts returning. I was having a moment of idiocy because I was drunk. I was having a mental attack and that was it. The only explanation behind my familiarity with the cigarettes would be my tendency for detailed observation. I could have picked it up from all the people around me subconsciously.

With every sentence that my mind offered, my heart calmed down dramatically until I was staring at the grass below where the white cigarette had fallen with the same stoic indifference, the incident forgotten. It was at that moment that I heard his silky, feminine voice cutting the air, closer than I expected. I startled badly.

When I looked up with my wide eyes, he was standing close to me with an apologetic expression on his adorable face, his hazel eyes blinking rapidly and his lips thinning in realization. I had never seen him before yet something about the southern twang in his silky voice when he apologized told me I was familiar with his type. He was very androgynous-looking with a hairless, beautiful face and a skinny body that was covered by his oversized, woolen sweater, falling slightly off one of his shoulders. When he noticed I wasn't going to acknowledge him, he made the first move, opening that small mouth and asking for the item in my hand, motioning to it in an over-exaggerated way. Yeah, he was gay. He was flamboyantly so and though in the past I cringed at the sight, thinking it gave all us homosexuals a bad name, seeing him in front of me only made me smile a little.

"Can I have a smoke or not?" He inquired again, getting restless, and I nodded towards him, my fingers moving to the box and unpacking a lone cigarette, twirling its cylindrical form in my two main fingers as he stared at it in longing. I raised it to his eye level and pointed it towards his face in a 'come get it' approach and he smirked a little before wrapping his lips around the cigarette without hesitation, his eyes looking up to me from under his lashes.

I only let go of the papery stick when his soft lips deliberately brushed on my fingers, partially enveloping them in the warm cavern, because then I felt the nerves tingling down my body in excitement, my eyes dilating at his advances. He was shorter than I, constantly moving closer and looking up. Just the way he awaited my verdict told me I was in control that time and the feeling of power, of dominating someone completely chocked me. He was definitely a bottom, which gave my drunken brain a green light. He could be my test-drive.

I moved to play with the lighter as I lit his cigarette, our eyes still dancing with each other, his mouth taking a full inhale to light up the end, smoldering in my view the same fire that I could see in his dark orbs, shining traces of green when in front of the flame. His hand moved to delicately swipe the cig off his mouth and the spell broke, both of us moving slightly away, he leaning on the balcony railing, I staring at the way both Thresh and Cato were fixated on the show I was giving. The balcony was elevated giving them the same view they would get had they been in the theatre. I could see they were amused, Cato's smirk finding it extremely funny that I was even trying. They underestimated me and I wanted to give them the show they were asking for, use that element of surprise to knock them off their steady ground.

"What's your name?" I asked the boy next to me, my eyes still defying the blue ones that Cato had determined would be guarding the situation for as long as the other boy was up there with me. I heard him shift closer to me, the shuffling of his shirt alerting me to his nervous fidgeting, the warm, soft material of his sweater lightly gracing my arm. He was warm and soft. He was safe not in the way that Cato was, protecting me from harm, but in that harmless, puppy sort of way.

"Damien. I'm from RL, you go here?" He muttered shyly, looking up from his position on the railing, his bangs falling on his eyes. I had to turn away from the bar to stare at him back with a slight smile that I hoped was flirtatious. I saw the way he was staring at me. He was expecting something and I was suddenly hesitant, unsure of whether I could give it to him. I was being a coward because with every sign that he gave me of his attraction, the winks and the lip licks, I got more nervous that I would disappoint him, that knowing I was a virgin, inexperienced would turn him off. At least at that moment, he could build me up as it best suited him. He could imagine me like that tough guy who could ram him into the mattress, make him scream and spasm. He could create a new me, and my front had to stay strong for him to be able to do that. He couldn't see that the inner soul was weak. He couldn't.

My hand moved towards his, lightly stroking his frozen, reddened palms before swiping the cigarette off him and placing it in my own mouth. The smoke blocked any thoughts from protesting and I sighed in relief, my hand subconsciously finding its way back to his clenched ones, his eyes pleading for me to make a move. I needed to. He had moved so close to me that half of his body was now flush against my side, his face inches away from mine. I dared to spare a glance at the bar where I saw Cato's shocked face and Thresh's incredulous smile. I knew the blond was telling me to stop because there was nothing funny anymore about my actions.

His cold hand came to cup my face lightly and turn my attention back to his pretty features, his fingers removing the last barrier, flicking the stick in between his digits and holding it next to him away from our face. I felt unprotected then from his gaze so I crashed my lips against his in a bruising kiss that had him moaning slightly, his other hand sliding up my neck to thread in my long, blond locks as he pulled my face closer to his excited one. He didn't taste like Cato or Marvel. He tasted submissive because his tongue was always just following mine or hiding in his mouth. I was making all the bold moves to go after him and when he purred pulling away with a string of saliva, I chased him back, slamming his waist on the railing and gripping his hips into mine with a growl. He mewled at the advances, urging me on.

Opening my eyes I saw his were tightly shut and I noticed the way he flung my cigarette on the floor so both his hands could be around my neck. He was suckling and nipping while I devoured him aggressively, getting out all my anger and frustration on his little, defenseless form. He had chosen the wrong time and I knew if Cato didn't intervene soon, the reality-check that I was hoping for, I would have him on his knees whether he liked it or not. It was too late to make rational decisions then. It was always too late.

His mouth separated from mine, his face nuzzling on my collarbone as he continued to kiss up my neck to my ear. His ministrations felt good but I had other thoughts in mind and suddenly with one experimental lift, his ass was touching the railing, his frame shaking slightly from fear as I balanced him towards me and away from the abyss. He whimpered, his legs wrapping around my waist, one of his arms clinging to my neck and his other hand grasping my shirt in a desperate hold. He could feel the danger and the thought that I was the only thing keeping him alive was thrilling to the point that I was straining against my pants harder than ever. I was becoming psychotic. I needed someone to control this side of me. That was precisely why I needed to be the one under control because when the evil thoughts took over, I couldn't even control myself.

He was still quivering slightly in my arms, his breath shaky against my neck, his eyes squinted shut, and as my hands settled on his small back, my lips on his feathery light ones, I whispered against them, "Don't be scared. I got you. What are you so afraid off, baby boy?"

"I don't wanna fall," He whimpered back and I thought it ironic that he meant it in the most literal sense. Even in the metaphorical one, nobody wanted to fall. I didn't want to fall for Marvel. Cato didn't want to fall for him either and yet look how much good that did.

I chuckled against his lips bitterly, staring at his wide, scared eyes, the dilated black telling me he wasn't quite turned off yet. When I kissed him that time, he held nothing back because he was desperate and people do insane shit when they are desperate. He burned in my arms like a wavering candle in the dark.


	18. A Day Late and A Dollar Short

**Chapter 16 – A Day Late and A Dollar Short**

_Peeta's POV (Friday)_

Kissing him didn't give me the satisfaction that licking Marvel's skilled lips did. Sure, it made my stomach sting in tingly pleasure, tighten in unreleased tension, but it didn't make the aforementioned organ flutter with nervous butterflies. It didn't make me tremble in anticipation or pulse in need. My brain knew that I could have it whenever I demanded it and that certainty in itself ruined the novelty—made it weak and pathetic. The more my lips moved against his feverishly to distract my fragile mind from its toxic thoughts, the more the emotions rebelled, whined in protest for me to take a break, think things through. My own body was stuck in the dilemma between showing everyone I was strong and hurting myself by admitting that this really wasn't what I wanted.

He gently pulled away from my apathetic lips, moaning something that sounded a lot like 'more' lasciviously in the skin of my neck, his arms having lost their deathly grasp in trust, dangling gracefully on my shoulders, his fingers caressing my soft, long hair, sending tickling sensations down my spine. He loved playing with my hair, I noticed and it was the first time I considered not cutting it short like my parents always insisted.

My spacey eyes drifted to the sky as he continued to nuzzle my neck, his warm frame still held in safely between my aching arms, the reality of the situation becoming more and more clouded to my battling thoughts. I stared at the fall, eyeing the flimsy grass, imagining the deadly impact with a sudden clarity that had me crushing him to my chest spastically, earning a soft moan of approval that fluttered against my collarbone. I didn't know what I wanted to do with him yet but it didn't matter because just having him near boosted my confidence—made me believe I could do anything. It was impossible to trust my logic after I had abandoned it, offended it by allowing momentary stupidity to take the reins.

My lips moved to his temple in a gratifying thank you when I felt him stiffen in my grasp, his back straightening rigidly and his hot breath gasping against my naked neck, sending a tremor of fear down my spine as well. His embrace on my neck tightened so hard that I felt his nails digging in my skin like the claws of an animal. I wanted to thrash away in instinct, my mind remembering the woman from the dreams, her cold, long fingers consistently dragging me from my clothes.

I hissed slightly in pain, moving backwards with him in my clasp, letting his feet detach from my waist and settle on the ground shakily, his frame still draped over my torso in a overly clingy demeanor, his eyes still glaring behind me at the intruder. I knew immediately, looking down at his focused gaze trained behind me in partial fear traced with annoyance, that he had arrived. He had finally made that intervening move I had been expecting with adrenaline filled limbs and a hammering heart. I had planned our confrontation in my head several times but I felt the punch in my gut that told me I was not prepared for anything of that magnitude.

When I turned around to face him, I thought I had primed myself for the look in his blue eyes but I couldn't possibly have because it was way more anguished than I could ever imagine, his brows furrowed and his lips pouting in disappointment. He was not making a move towards us, stubbornly forbidding himself from approaching, and his hands were crossed against his chest to prevent him from clenching them into bleeding. His face was angry and accusing, his sculpted features glaring at me in a way that automatically made me subdue. At the same time, the little boy behind me clung to the back of my shirt, now wet with nervous sweat, offering his warmth and suddenly I didn't regret anything. My eyes giving one comforting swift glance to my partner's concerned, hazel orbs before facing Cato's sky blue ones with out of place determination that I stupidly believed could conquer his rage. For the first time he realized that I was not going to crumble into tears before his protective frame. It shocked him still.

"Do you need anything, Cato?" I spoke first, my tone colder than my heart, as he snapped out of his distant reverie to open his snarled mouth. No matter how twisted his features were, he would still be gorgeous. He looked back once in hesitation, I guessed to casually observe if we were being interrupted, before stomping forward rapidly close enough to grab my forearm and pull me towards him harshly, my feet stumbling forward to meet him halfway. The boy behind me whimpered and I wanted to do the same but knowing he expected me to be strong, I growled instead—the sound so foreign in my scared, dry throat. I was going on pure instinct and it was telling me to run.

"Don't do this, Peeta," Cato stated in a threatening tone, his eyes pleading in contrast to his under control voice and shifting once dubiously to the other person in the balcony, heating up in violent anger at his undeserving privileges. I stepped in front of him like a shield, the alcohol preventing me from seeing that behind my warm, fuzzy haze, I was scared and sad. I didn't want to be fighting Cato. If my sober brain had to make the choice between the random boy and the blond who had held my sobbing frame, it wouldn't have hesitated for a mere second.

"Is he your ex?" The boy whose name already had slipped my mind, piped in with a light tremble in his voice, his hands still touching my back gently, seeking to ease my discomfort but only serving to make me more jumpy. My head snapped backwards while I heard Cato snarl in his general direction, clearly wanting him to disappear from existence. My heart ached in what I thought was the disgust in his voice at the innocent assumption. It almost looked like he was offended that anyone would even think someone as hot as Cato would pay attention to someone as measly as I. He threatened the other boy to shut up, briskly placing his attention back to my hurt eyes and whining heart.

My emotions kept undulating up and down from strong to weak, from confident to pathetic. I wanted nothing to do with him at the moment because I saw the cracks in my new barrier, the one attention had falsely constructed, and I knew my confidence would shatter soon. I had to push Cato away before he could witness my utter humiliation. I refused to let him pick me up that time. I couldn't owe him anymore—not without giving some back.

"Why _not_?" I demanded ruthlessly, addressing his previous statement, huffing under my breath, my teeth grit against the need to let him win, my eyes stinging in anger at his caught off guard face. I could see he was stuttering for a response, his lips opening several times in vain. He was struggling because he didn't have a strong reason behind his actions. He didn't know why he had come, interrupting me. He had just acted on his unsettled emotions and those were screaming at him that I was betraying them all, the inner circle they had conducted me in.

I wasn't being that good, little puppy, following behind them as they strolled down the street. I wasn't being the puppy jumping at the door with excited yelps every time they came to me. I was done doing that, getting lost when they drifted too far ahead, getting sad when they did not show up. I wanted to know that they really wanted me in their circle—that they actually cared as much as I did about who I actually was inside, not the new toy, not the one that Marv seemed to like, not the one that had all the secrets of their fucked coven. I wanted to know that everything wasn't an illusion I had created. I had sacrificed the sanity that had taken me years to achieve to earn that short time with them.

"Because you're_ hurting_ m-me—you're hurting Marv!" Cato stumbled on his words brokenly, his explanation wanting to appease me but doing just the opposite, making me furious with shock. I was sick of everything being about Marvel—I was tired of being second place in everything that I did. It hurt to be so close; it killed to know you never had a chance to compete. No matter what I did, Cato would always love Marvel more though the other had ruined his shot, hadn't deserved to have it in the first place.

I had given him a chance to break through to me, save me from the darkness that was slowly consuming my heart, forcing my mind to follow orders. He had not said the right thing and I knew as the logical part of my mind pushed the sadness behind the closed doors, I knew I would explode but there was nothing I could do to stop it. I watched with dread like a spectator in a show gone wrong.

"Who gives a shit?!" I blurted out of my mouth automatically, his blue eyes widening in obvious hurt as they flickered backwards towards the entrance, that small door that represented the end. He clearly didn't want the other boy to witness any of the confrontation and I knew exactly why his protective instinct was kicking in. I could graphically imagine the glassy sheen in the emerald orbs, hidden purposely behind the blond ringlets. I had seen just how much he could be hurt that night when Finnick attacked him, that day when I unveiled his weakness in the cafeteria. He was breakable and I had the weapons to do it because he had gotten attached whether he wanted to make a move on it or not. What had escaped my mouth had been a lie because I did give a shit. I didn't want to hurt him and yet…

"Because you're being a fucking _slut_!" Cato roared in response to my reply, his tone disgusted and disappointed. He hated me at that one moment and my indigent mind was looking to add fuel to that fire. I mentally screamed in protest, watching my body in third person perspective as my lips moved to give that final jab, the one that had been looming around in my mind ever since I saw him fight Thresh that second night, ever since the evil spot in my brain knew what his ultimate weakness was. I could hurt him so I did.

"I thought you liked the whores."

I was too shocked at my own witty brain to process the shattering trust behind his desperate eyes, his mouth falling open in defeat and betrayal with nothing to hit me back. I had hit below the belt and I regretted it so badly because I could see he was hurting, bleeding emotionally, fidgeting with his shaking hands to keep his temper under control. He gulped in effort, letting out a bitter chuckle of disbelief, his hand in his hair as he looked around. His eyes looked especially moist, avoiding my seemingly indifferent gaze.

That wasn't who I wanted to be—the aggressor. I was usually the one to calm him down from his tantrums, gently guide him back to the group, show him how to take care of Marvel correctly so they didn't fall back into their abusive relationship. That was my role, had always been it, and suddenly I had fucked it all up at the exact moment that I had figured it all out.

"You're lucky—" He choked on his words, his anger having turned his voice raspy and dry, his breathing more labored. "You're lucky he's here." He pointed towards the cowering wimp behind me, staring at the blond through wide, surprised eyes. I kept my eyes on the boy I had just betrayed the entire time. I didn't care about the other one. "Otherwise, I would have broken your nose, you ungrateful shit."

The door slammed roughly and he never looked back, practically gliding down the rusty stairs, fuming in anger and trembling in suppressed rage. I stood frozen in silence, my mouth dry and my throat raw in hurt. I couldn't face the boy behind me—I couldn't even function correctly so I startled when his feminine hands massaged my shoulders, his fingers only stopping to place the lit cigarette between my lips before going back to tracing my tense muscles.

I sighed heavily to myself, replacing my exhale with tainted air from the cancer stick, forcing my brain to lose common sense in his tender actions. I leaned over the railing, placing my jaw on my outstretched arms, debating the jump with rolling eyes, one of my hands aiding my mouth in what could easily become my new addiction. He was silent and I appreciated that, his touches never wavering though he was certain the boy with the clear, blue eyes had stolen my attention for the rest of the night. He would never measure up. He would be my second place, like I was Cato's, like Cato was Marv's.

The cycle had to be broken and I had to remain strong enough to cause that deep incision.

I clutched his small, smooth hand into mine as we walked down the stairs slowly, the music greeting us with a techno remix of "Somebody that I used to know", the sweat and heat in the air making me cringe. He was reluctant to leave the somewhat private area so I had to yank him a little off balance to make him follow with a stubborn pout and a frowned face. If I had already ruined my friendship with Cato for the sake of making Marvel jealous, giving him that final push to come towards me, I was going to follow my screwed up plan to the end. A shimmer of pride that appeared out of nowhere in the abyss of my dark past forbid me from giving in one more time just because the path became a little more clouded, the solution not as black or white. I pushed myself forward with a confident strut that had Thresh mesmerized, standing by Cato's frame next to the bar. The blond was leaning on the marble, his eyes finding the lined up bottles more interesting than the grinding teens.

I was surprised to note that he had not gone to Marvel. He had not wrapped his arms around the other's lithe frame, hugging the boy to his chest so that he didn't feel bad about my harsh truth. I had found out that the way he defeated the guilt, the shame of being so trapped, was by enjoying the bright light that came with being by the curly-haired boy's side as the shorter one looked up to him in love and affection. That time he had refused to let the world know though and he was stuck fiddling with an empty shot glass, his forearm slashed a couple more times as Thresh sat on the marble next to his resigned face, his lips muttering from time to time, his eyes having found a new hobby at seeking me out.

I could see he was perturbed by my actions, the mistrust flickering in his onyx orbs, and it didn't take a genius to understand the two sides the mafia children occasionally divided themselves into in stormy times that I was certain they had experienced before. On one side stood Cato, proud and strong, with Thresh as his main confidant, Glimmer as his occasional partner and the rest of the underclassmen, Edan, Rue, Adri, as his protégés. On the other side was sneaky, bratty Marvel with Clove as his queen, Sonny as his second in command and Nick as his ultimate protector. The four were much more exclusive, tightly-knit together to the point that backstabbing was unimaginable, and though I stood in the middle, possibly having forfeited my ticket to Cato's side, I knew if push came to shove I wouldn't be able to choose.

I found myself in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by fleshy, sweaty bodies moving beside me in a spastic, buzzing rhythm, as Dorian—Damien winked at me slyly guiding my thoughtful self forward. I liked that he was so bubbly at the moment because hadn't it been for his oblivious excitement, I would still be standing mid-way through my stroll, arguing mutely with Thresh whose lips were now pursed in annoyance. I felt as if I was once again rejecting his help so I removed my eyes from their position to scroll through the area for my real target, the one who was costing me so much.

My view was obstructed by Damien's soft locks as his back bumped against my front, his soft tush settling on my lap comfortably, swaying with the beat and teasing me through my many layers. I gasped a little at the impact, losing my concentration in the pink, lusty haze that my nerves radiated, his insistent rubbing making me hold my breath, my eyes darkening in haze, swallowing becoming a much harder task. He chuckled at me gleefully, his hands perching on my thighs delicately as he urged me forward until, blindly following his advance, I was dancing to the rhythm, picking up the easy number eight motion we had fallen in. One of my shaky palms settled roughly on his exposed hipbone, his sweater having been flung off in exchange for a shirt too small for his torso when the heat attacked our rosy faces. He purred at the contact and my fingers slid under the waistband of his pants teasingly, as my other hand grasped him violently to myself when I realized in horror that even he, weak and lost, was manipulating my actions at the moment to please his libido.

He didn't seem a bit fazed by my rough manhandling, instead grinding harder on my half-hard length, tenting the front of my pants in a bump that he took care to envelop between his clothed butt cheeks every time he pushed towards me, his eyes frequently lidding in a sultry expression.

It felt good to be touched but not nearly as overwhelming as my past experiences with Marvel, his lips on my ear and his hands on my sensitive ass. The more I fought to get Damien to be enough, pulling his face towards mine viciously, biting his lips mercilessly and eliciting guttural purrs from his attacked mouth, the more I realized I was meant to be a submissive. It wasn't about control because I was quite certain the boy with hazel eyes that had sought me out in the balcony, as submissive as he was, had been in control of our situation ever since he asked for that fucking cigarette. Control did not come with the position.

The knowledge made my cheeks shame in red, the knowledge that if Cato or Marvel were holding me against their sturdy chests, their ragged breaths on my neck, their dirty words raining on my ear, I would be leaking in my pants.

He must have noticed my lack of attention because the next thing I knew his small hand had inched behind his back, grasping me between the layers boldly, my eyes squinting at the unexpected pleasure, hiding behind his neck as my teeth rammed hard on his skin.

"You're big. Shit. You wanna go som—" The boy working blindly against me murmured in a voice thick with sexual tension, his head falling on my shoulder, his lips wet and shiny, expecting to meet mine. I kissed him then, interrupting his suggestion, swallowing his dirty phrases not only because the compliment had stroked my ego, making me thrust my length against his whimpering, frail body in animalistic reflex, but also because my blue eyes landed on Marvel's flabbergasted face as he completely lost track of his previous actions, smiling cheerfully and dancing with his crew, stopping midway through the sentence and making Sonny stare at him in obvious confusion, a waving hand in front of his devastated eyes.

_But you didn't have to cut me off,  
Make out like it never happened and that we were nothing  
And I don't even need your love  
But you treat me like a stranger and that feels so rough  
No you didn't have to stoop so low  
Have your friends collect your records and then change your number  
I guess that I don't need that though  
Now you're just somebody that I used to know_

I saw his dirty blonde hair shining in the lights, grasped temporarily between his nervous digits, and I saw his lost eyes whimpering at the display as his hands automatically fidgeted with his crop top shirt, curling the fabric in his palms angrily. His will to dance seem to drool out of him as rapidly as the color of his cheeks, his eyes flaring in betrayal that I didn't think he had the right to display. He stomped his feet like a little child, frowning petulantly and inching towards me almost immediately, determination set in his features, my eyes following his every movement, my lips attached to Damien's overly-sensitive skin, his moans further egging me on.

I smiled in sadistic victory, celebrating early because as soon as he stepped a couple of steps closer to our future relationship, Sonny grasped his arm between his wide, goalie hands, pulling him closer despite Marvel's throaty whine and whispering promptly against his ear, his sleek, black eyes sneering at me sideways, his hands now trying to force Marvel to look away as the boy of my attention kept battering off the Japanese one's attempts with a crunched up face.

I wanted to scream Sonny's name in anger, unable to understand why he had decided to join the army of people constantly coming between us. I was so close to making the blond play his own game, breaking that shield that all the others had constructed around him, showing him the cold, harsh truth. He was a slut and he deserved to be hurt like he had broken many. The more riled up my mind got, insulting the relentless friend, insinuating things about Marvel that I never would normally, the more I lost my grounding, simultaneously staring at Cato's turned back and Marvel's gulping, dejected lips.

I was starting to note the flaws in my logic and with every possibility of failure reappearing in my previously narrow mind, my lips attacked the boy in front of me, nailing him to my body so harshly that he whimpered in pain for the first time, shying away from my ministrations with a flinch that wasn't big at all compared to the one Marvel gave at my display. He stepped backwards, running into the people behind him who turned around with annoyed expressions and rolling eyes. Sonny's hand wrapped against his in pleading, and I could make out half of the things being said by reading his hyperactive lips:

"Please, Sash…don't let this get to you…he's drunk…you're okay…don't need him…fish in the sea…please, buddy…Nick…"

No matter how much Sonny was attempting to cool down the boiling cauldron, Marvel wasn't having any of it, one of his hands pushing Sonny back from his chest while he tried to detach his other one from the orange-clad boy's grasp, thrashing in the hold and sternly demanding Sonny to release him. I could tell Marvel was not used to having stuff not go his way and I found his reaction immature. I didn't like how he didn't want to fight, expecting everything to be brought in front of him on a silver platter. I didn't like how easily he had given up and I didn't understand why that light of aggression had flickered shut immediately after Sonny's first words. What had his friend told him and where had I miscalculated because Cato had acted predictably, threatening me to submission, but Marvel was nowhere near as simple.

Maybe if I gave him one more push,

one more jab would not break him,

would it?

My lips moved to the lyrics, my eyes frozen on his disbelieving face, caught in between the 'what the fuck?' and the 'way to play your cards right, you little bitch'. For a second, I tuned out Sonny, dejectedly trying to drag Marvel away with a defeated face, Clove, watching the situation from her grinding position with a hesitant attitude and Nick, ramming through people in the crowd to get to Marvel, shoving them coldly, his expression giving me a strong stare that screamed one statement loud and clear: 'stop.'

_Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over  
But had me believing it was always something that I'd done  
But I don't wanna live that way  
Reading into every word you say  
You said that you could let it go  
And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know_

He didn't even wait for the verse to be over before storming off into the crowd, turning his back at my smirking face, my body still swaying sideways, the boy in front of me working even harder to get my attention moaning lightly with every dismissive caress I offered.

His eyes screamed in loss and when Nick appeared in front of him, grasping both his arms and pulling him closer to his heaving chest, he only fought to be released, his face refusing to meet with the soccer team's captain. Nick chanced a look at me, motioning for me to quit it, drop the act. His silver eyes were incredulous at my thick brain because he thought he had been quite clear in his motioning. He mouthed my name sternly as if demanding that I approach him, raise my hand and mumble 'present', but I wasn't on his command that night so I stayed put, getting more comfortable in my position, my chin resting on his shoulder.

Marvel finally wrestled out of his grasp, continuing his journey through the crowd and I was about to roll my eyes in ridicule, cruelly observing the situation while my heart ached for me to act, my sober mind crying, sobbing for me to fix it because that wasn't what I wanted, he was hurt—in pain. I thought Marvel was going to run back to the blond, complain about not getting his toy and cry until Cato forced my lips on his feet but he didn't even ponder on that opportunity. He ran into the other direction not even looking once at Cato who was completely oblivious to my crimes, still brooding at the counter where Thresh's horrified face could not hide the traces of sadistic amusement that the show had given him, his grin canine and aggressive.

It was Glimmer who chased her twin down concernedly, screaming his name and pleading with him in Russian, making a quick dive for where he was heading towards the dark back. Her eyes darted to his back without even hesitating as if she knew he was in trouble, her hand on her mouth in worry, and the hurt expression she gave me with her usually gentle, approaching eyes, snapped me out of my self-satisfying pride, the blood icing in my veins and the words chocking on my throat. To my complete surprise, she grasped his hand in hers and he didn't pull away as they both disappeared in the shadows. She looked so disappointed in me and as I stepped into her shoes, I started to hate myself.

Nick looked back towards me once, shaking his head in disapproval and mouthing 'why', his eyes blinking in a stupefied expression that mirrored Thresh's without the evil glint and with a lot more torn affection. He was staring back and forth between where he had fled and where I was staying put like a warrior ready to accept his punishment. He was lingering in indecision and it was at that moment that I realized, I had made him choose because he gave me a flustered, scrunched up face, his hand clutching his hair painfully, his lips snarling 'fuck' before running away from me towards the mysterious, retreating twins, his presence disappearing from my sight and leaving me breathless.

The reality came crushing towards me like a bucket of ice-cold water and I actually sobbed his name, stopping my movement and inching towards my soccer captain, Damien grasping my hand behind me in a confused expression, his eyes trying to understand my sudden breakdown.

Before I could try to seek Nick with my distressed, wet eyes, Sonny was standing before me with a serious expression on his face that had me shitting my pants because of its rarity. I didn't even think the Asian was capable of forming his features into angry ones but it was there in front of my panicked, regretful face, looking as determined and fiery as the ninja I had previously compared him to. We stared each other down, I gulping in shame while he stuttered to begin, his eyes wide in shock, the pupils narrow in fury. His voice broke into a deeper one that had my attention gracefully trapped, my frame becoming smaller in front of his rarely dominant one.

"_You_ are the reason he hates being vulnerable. You and all those _fuckers_ that do this to him, drag him back and forth until he's as broken as a fucking ragdoll. He liked you, man! He really liked you. He was going to ask you out tonight, you know that? Fuck!" He whispered in disbelief, bitterly smiling at my devastated face, his hand covering his eyes temporarily before his burning gaze returned to my pulverized front. He knew I couldn't handle another blow but he gave it to me anyway because he was loyal, because he knew how fragile Marvel was when it came to these encounters.

I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat when my brain accused me of being the reason he started injecting. "But you turn out to be another one of those dominant control-freaks that cream their pants when they see the bruises on his cheeks. I just don't understand…." He shook his head in loss, speechless for a few seconds about to move away. "You're starting a chain reaction that you won't be able to stop exploding. Keep dropping those dominos…"

He left me numb, his sarcasm tingling the broken shards of my confidence, laying on the floor so openly that even Damien moved away, his eyes sad and his lips pursed. I didn't chase him down though I knew I needed to apologize for using him. I didn't chase Marvel down either because I wasn't invited. His sister, his best friend and his protector would eat my flesh before I would have time to even utter a simple 'forgive me, little one'. I went to the bar, seeking the only piece that made sense, the only action that I could fix, the only way to redeem myself. I went to the bar, watching his tense back grow closer, his blond hair more distinctive like a candle-light in the middle of eternal darkness.

Thresh gave me an indiscernible look, walking towards me and stopping in front just to whisper "Before complaining about being somebody's second choice, consider all _your _back-ups."

He wasn't angry—he was knowing and I knew exactly what he was implying. Marvel wasn't the one, had never been. I wouldn't be good enough and maybe I was fighting for no reason. Maybe I just needed to aim lower and notice that I had another perfectly fine possibility, waiting for me, holding me up the entire time I chased the impossible. Maybe I needed Cato and by the look of his hurt face, maybe he needed me just as much.

Marvel was out of the picture at the moment and I knew I had a couple of minutes to make the right move before being drawn to the perfect boy again like a fly goes to shit. I was done screwing up, second-guessing myself, burning my fingers in the fire. I was done holding back.

I slid closer to him silently as if in a dream, my fingers trailing gently on the cool, black marble, dipping in the occasional splotch of liquid, until they came across an unfinished drink, the content oozing innocently in the used glass, the ice already melted into the strong-smelling alcohol. I pondered about chugging it down my throat, feeling the acidic burn reignite my confidence. My stomach felt queasy and I wasn't sure if it was the quick uptake or the nervous butterflies, fighting hard to escape the death from the acidic contents of my empty stomach. My fingers grasped the cup closer to me, my eyes drifting to the reflection of the light on its wet rim, closing with a sigh before admitting that I needed to confront the problem on my own.

When I reached him, stopping next to his draped frame, close enough to smell the combination of musky sweat and strong cologne, my elbow twitching on the counter, my other hand gripping the side of my preppy pants nervously, his head was laid flat on the dirty surface, facing away from me, his blond, sweaty hair the only part of him in my immediate view. I briefly wandered what he was staring at, not knowing that his eyes had been closed at the moment. He seemed peaceful to the unknowing onlooker but the tension in his strong back was not fooling me, having already analyzed the symptoms of his distress.

I took a deep, shuddering breath that was silenced by Cascada playing in the background one of her usual strangely dancy songs about failed love. I really didn't want to be listening to the tune at the moment, cursing the punky DJ for constantly developing the soundtrack of my life with weird accuracy. He seemed to have a good feel for what the crowd desired at every minute because he had people jumping in joy and swaying in drunken waves, their marked hands moving up and down with the music.

_Boy meets girl,  
You were my dream, my world,  
But I was blind,  
You cheated on me from behind.  
So on my own  
I feel so all alone  
Though I know, it's true  
I'm still in love with you._

My fingers lightly touched his hair, curling a soft tuft around my forefinger, and he flinched upwards hard enough for me to notice, his shoulders straightening with a slight growl, his head immediately sliding away from my apologetic grasp as he turned around to face me with swollen eyes that were hazy with alcohol and reddened with other substances. His lips did not gape the surprise of seeing me and the only indication that he could spot my presence in the dark corner where the bar was hidden from the world came from the slight squint in his blue eyes and the small twitch of his upper lip. His face was still flat on the table in apathy, arms having come up to support it. We locked eyes and the stark display of uncaring distance broke the cool, composed front in mine with a shattering gunshot that rang clear and loud in my inebriated brain.

I swooped towards him in one swift, unexpected movement that caught us both off guard, like those sea birds dove to catch the unsuspecting fish, jumping above water in glee, risking the danger in exchange for a view of the outside world, the sun shining on their colorful scales. He didn't inch from his position to flinch in defense, remaining aloof even when my lips fluttered on his shyly, my tongue making a quick appearance to lick his bow-shaped, full upper lip. He didn't open his mouth in acceptance or shock; he didn't close his clear eyes in compliance either.

Our similar colored-eyes sparked in different tones of saddening blue as I planted three short, butterfly kisses on his warm lips, my mouth suckling like a baby with feather light touches that just screamed submission. I didn't pull away immediately, instead settling my face next to his, my chin on the counter, my lips so close to his lidded, tired eyes.

My heart hammered in my chest and my palms got sweaty against the fabric of my shirt. He was glowing like an angel under the fluorescent lights and I really wanted him bad. With Marvel gone, he had a chance to shine and I thought his attachment was his ultimate curse because it kept him so close to the bright, shining light that attracted oblivious moths that nobody could see his own luminosity.

"I'm sorry, Cato. I was wrong and I want you to take me back. I can't fight with you—I need you," I whispered brokenly with a defeated tone, the air transmitting my message to his slightly wider eyes, the blue calming down a little like the gray sky after a thundering storm. He took his time to swallow my words as my eyes moistened in the loss of control, the confident air evaporating from my body at the admittance, leaving me disoriented again. I hated going back to being weak but at the same time I knew that I couldn't hold that fake persona forever. I needed to find my balance because the titer tottering from one edge of the abyss to another was becoming fatiguing for my brittle state of mind.

_I need a miracle  
I wanna be your girl  
Give me a chance to see  
That you are made for me.  
I need a miracle  
Please let me be your girl  
One day you'll see  
It can happen to me.  
It can happen to me._

He sat up slowly, detaching his face from the surface and regaining some of the color on his cheeks, his eyes igniting in thought, the spacey look shattering from them. I mirrored his movement as we both straightened in perpetual slow motion, the air thickening in tension as I inched closer to him, our bodies brushing together in forbidden ecstasy.

We didn't speak and yet we shared that same thought of not being good enough, that same air of overcame sadness, that same decision to reach out beyond that boundary line that had kept us back throughout all the time. He was as wrapped up in Marvel as I, infatuated with the perfect boy to the point of self-destruction. He knew, like me, of the consequences, of the hard truth in the situation: the closer we got to the burning flame that couldn't be contained, the more our skin melted, deformed into other shapes permanently. We were both aware with crystal clear eyes that had been at some point dominated by poignancy. We had both witnessed the dilemma and that common, shared understanding made the seemingly, flimsy connection that much more powerful.

I saw my train of thought reflected in his honest eyes and before I had time to open my mouth again, beg him to give it a try because we had the right to be happy, his hand was on my neck, pulling me forward roughly and unexpectedly, his lips crashing on mine in a desperate kiss hot kiss. I moaned in slight pain at the impact. My eyes squinted shut in fear and never opened again in pleasure, my hands grasping on his short hair just as hard while the palm on my neck kept me from moving away long enough to catch my breath, our mouths panting next to each other in breathless passion.

His other hand wrapped around my waist possessively, the fingers hiding under the material of my shirt as he pulled my light frame into his dominant embrace, my hypersensitive body settling between his spread knees. My hands patted down his torso in desire, grasping on his shirt when he nibbled on my tongue, nipping my bottom lip and pulling away with a cheeky grin, dragging the abused lip with him, opening my mouth to release that controlled moan I had been trying so hard to not let him have. His eyes were dark when he looked down at me and the calculating in them scared me because I didn't want him to back away so I stood up on my toes to reach his lips once more, my heart unable to withstand the lack of contact, my hands sliding down his shirt and settling on his sculpted abdomen, quivering in approval. He groaned at my touches, grasping me tighter and meshing our bodies into one, my flat stomach bumping on his very obvious bulge, slightly straining against the material of his acid-washed jeans.

When I moved to lay an experimental palm on top of the swell, feeling the heat from the sharp material of his pants, he hissed through his teeth, pulling away and snuggling his flushed face in my neck, his fingers deeply in my blond hair, his eyes closed in effort. I halted all movement, freezing in his touch in case I had done something wrong, and in my moment of self-doubt, I heard his words gliding down my reddened neck, burying in my shirt and caressing my spine in a frisson.

"I fucking like you as much as Marvel does and I can't keep playing on the defensive any longer for his sake." His tone was husky with traces of anger that were not aimed at anyone in particular, his statement made me close my eyes, my forehead against his strong chest, in one of those moments of pleasant astonishment, like when you win the lottery or realize that your teacher fell ill the day of your exam. I couldn't hold the stupid smile from splitting my face open and I think he felt it against the thin material of his shirt because he followed with a meaningful kiss on my neck, my name whispered on the bruising, reddened skin.

When I pulled away from his comfort, that night chasing the lust instead, his smiling face was already waiting for me mid-way through, his eyes looking down at my glowing face with suppressed joy, and our restless lips danced against each other beautifully as he helped me with his immense strength to settle on his robust lap, my back against the ice cold counter, my elbows laying flat on it to support my position, my mind not caring about the sticky substance contaminating my skin, as his lips followed my movements, never letting me feel alone, his hands on my waist to keep me stable and grounded, my butt snug against his obvious hardened length. I grinded on him sensuously in the same way I had noticed Damien doing when he really wanted to drive me crazy and my strategy didn't fail because he humped into me once, growling, the kiss breaking sloppily as I felt some saliva drip on the side of my mouth. On normal occasions I would have been horrified but my mind was too lazy to freak out and my gut kind of enjoyed the dripping sensation combined with his frequent licks at my skin.

His head dropped onto my neck and my head fell backwards in pleasure, my eyes glassy in bliss as he nipped down my collarbone, occasionally spending more time on the soft spots that I reluctantly gave away with panted mewls and hitched breaths. I was certain my hair was touching the counter, mixing with the many substances to become sticky and sweaty. I was sure everyone was enjoying the positions Cato got us in, his mind overrode by passion, his hands moving one of my legs on his shoulder while the other one wrapped around his waist, my toes curling inside my shoes and my crotch tingling at the added friction.

I was trying my hardest to contain most of my sounds but it was hard when my body felt liberated from the tension, floating in his arms without any plaguing thoughts. His nimble fingers moved to grasp my ass, squeeze the foreign flesh in his strong palms, and I jumped up with a surprised squeal, enjoying the delicious whimper that escaped his throat when I landed on his lap gently rubbing up his heated groin.

"Dude, what the fuck? Couldn't you find a more convenient place?" We both heard the bartender mutter in a disbelieving tone that held annoyance and irritation. I giggled lightly in Cato's neck while the blond growled like a disturbed animal, opening his eyes to face the good-looking Hispanic boy who had a pair of blue eyes I had never seen on anybody of that complexion, icy to the point that they looked white. He was staring at us in expectation, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

He looked a little older than us, a washing rag on his left hand, his knuckles scraped in the way that told me he was much more than a bartender in his free time. He was leaning on the marble, a small distance away from my sprawled out frame being eaten alive by the predator on top of me.

Cato turned towards him and I felt the way that he stiffened slightly in preparation when he analyzed the other boy fully, noting his toned body, displayed freely from his black, tight tank in a way that told me he got much more out of the customers than mere tips. He had a tattoo on the inside of his left bicep and I couldn't exactly read what it said because it seemed like a long paragraph of small lettered text, stretching midway through his trained arms. His eyes remained challenging even when Cato offered his superior glare.

"Fuck off, man," Cato snapped dismissively, a small snarl making its way up his throat, his lips sneering at the other boy before going back to work on the skin of my neck. I giggled again at the unexpected tickling sensation running down my spine when his tongue sketched designs on my body. A part of me liked Cato's bad boy side. The violence in his voice, the strength in his actions, the demanding attitude he held with everyone was only turning me on more, my body moving against his in the rhythm of the music.

It felt rebellious and I grinned widely at my blond when his sly eyes met mine with a wink, laying back fully on the supposedly scared counter, my spine touching the cold material with an initial jump, my shirt riding up my stomach to expose my blond happy trail and my goose-bump filled, taut skin. Cato did not hesitate to raise the shirt of my body even more, his lips encircling my bellybutton, his warm tongue dipping in my navel with a flickering thrust, eliciting a wanton moan from my wet lips that had hot bartender moving towards us at rapid speed, towering my frame on the other side of the bar.

The moment his hands touched my shoulders, urging me up with a surprisingly polite gesture, no pulling or grabbing in his agenda, Cato roared awake, his face detaching from my stomach, one of his palms grasping the other boy's tank top gruffly, making him lean heavily on the counter as their faces got inches apart. I jumped up at the course of action, back to my sitting position in sudden fright that the bartender did not share with me, his icy orbs angry but unafraid. He was getting riled up and I couldn't tell how seriously Cato had taken the encounter until I heard his dangerously, sleek voice, and then I knew the blond was actually aggressive.

"Touch him again, you cunt, and I'll smash your ugly face on your precious counter," Cato threatened testily, his voice hitting the other boy in the lips without wavering, before the blond shoved him away, send him stumbling a few steps, his hands seeking the counter for support. When he raised his eyes to meet Cato's again, they were narrowed to slits, the black contrasting sharply against the clear iris, his lips snarled in anger.

"This is a bar, not a brothel, fucker. I suggest you take it somewhere else," The Hispanic one muttered slowly under his breath through gritted teeth, his tone final, and for a second I debated moving off Cato's lap because the authoritarian angle the boy with the short buzz-cut could play was realistic and practiced.

Cato faltered a little bit in his offensive, a hesitation that was further prolonged by the other voice behind us, horrifyingly familiar. My heart dropped to my lap, the lap that was no longer excited or heated, my gulping audible and my eyes dartingly insecure. Cato froze in his course of action, his shoulders the most tense I had ever seen them, his eyes burning a hole in the counter with their raged intensity. I really needed to step down at that point and Cato silently agreed, helping me off the chair, my feet touching the floor, my knees shaky in nervous anticipation.

"Agreed. Not everyone is into live porn, Cato," Nick muttered sardonically, his tone sharp as a knife, his presence very much menacing, the comfort I used to associate with his aura having dissipated throughout the course of the night. I felt like the child with his hand in the cookie jar and I looked up to meet his grayish-silver eyes at the same time that Cato decided to turn around, both of us becoming stone rigid at the people, not person, standing casually in front of the bar.

Nick was indeed distant, his arms on his chest, his eyes an opaque gray, observing Cato's reaction with pursued lips. That time when I saw both him and the blond in the same area, I felt their animosity because nobody else was there to hide it. I felt the tension rolling off their backs and the way Cato's face became furious enough that even his composed front shattered to reveal just how much he didn't want the protector to be there with his controlled poise and infuriating, little smirk. I think between Nick and Cato, the former could handle trouble way more diligently than the latter who tended to overreact and mess up more than he started with. I think between Nick and Cato, the former could cause way more direct damage, the latter always settling for collateral one.

_My chick bad  
My chick hood  
My chick do stuff  
That your chick wish she could.  
My-my chick bad  
Badder, badder  
Than yours._

Next to Nick with an apathetic, bored face stood Marvel, his eyes fiery red contrasting against his green orbs like a lit up Christmas tree and his lips pursued in the way that gave away none of his emotions. My breath caught so harshly when I met his devilish avocado eyes that I thought for a moment I would choke on my own saliva. He didn't give me the time of day, blinking once slowly towards my caught-off guard frame, leaning heavily against the counter, before moving to look at the blond. He was so far deep into his emotions that if I had not looked for that small ember of betrayal and hurt that ignited his face when the blond stared at him in a guilty expression, I would have thought he did not even care about any of us. He was collected and cold, plain in his emotive features and relaxed in his stature. He looked drugged and my heart sobbed at the pain that the pang of guilt caused it temporarily.

It had been easy in theory, my solution. It had been simple to think that I should move on, that I should concentrate on Cato who could love me, could ask me out and could perform the normal tasks in the relationship that Marvel forbid himself from doing in fear of his past. I thought being closer to Cato, feeling the desire rushing from his body into mine as we moved against each other could make me forget, make me strong enough to stay stable. Marvel was not going to be anything but an idolized dream—Cato was the solid one, the one who cared enough to stop me from becoming one of them, dropping Damien's heart on the floor with an indifferent shatter.

Yet having both stand in front of me for once staring at each other in rivalry instead of affection shifted my vision, changed the reality. They were not running towards each other with flirtatious remarks that were not innocent enough to pass for jabs best friends used. They were not cuddling or hugging, giving the other hidden smiles and sneaky smirks. They were not even talking and I was certain the bartender thought they had never met before from his outsider perspective, his icy eyes looking at us suspiciously.

I had broken what they had and I suddenly discovered that I cared, that I felt guilty and overwhelmed, wanting to run up and drag Marvel towards Cato's shaking, fisted hands. I wanted them to talk to each other because I could see from Cato, who was much more see-through than Marvel, that it was killing him to face the two, the part of his body that loved Marvel festering into a poisonous substance that was spreading through his veins to bring his entire brain down.

What had I done?

"Nick," Cato growled, grasping on the one straw that was obvious to him, his hatred for the boy who used to be his best friend, "You don't wanna do this." Nick snorted bitterly in that fashion that clearly displayed he wasn't afraid, his eyes holding more of a challenge that I liked, the sadistic part of his brain, the one I had witnessed when I first met him, appearing again full force, feeding on Cato's rage.

My hand went to grasp Cato's in mine, gently squeezing it to stop the blond from thinking that he could attack the other, could shut him up permanently. I wanted to help calm the situation and in a way I had not yet predicted, my move had that shattering effect because it caused Marvel to make a move, jumping from his porcelain doll look to speak for the first time, his drawls more slurred than normal.

I looked around the room in sudden clarity, trying to figure out where Thresh disappeared to so my mind was proven wrong, so the vivid imagery of my roommate once again providing Marvel with the substance dissipated. I was furious at him because I couldn't tell which side he was playing. He had been the one to encourage me to make a move on Cato, to drop Marvel like a sack of sand, and yet he must have been the one to constantly indulge Marvel in making bad decisions. What was he getting out of the whole scenario, playing the puppeteer that somehow controlled every interaction from so far away his face was in the shadows?

_Now all these bitches wanna try and be my besties  
But I take a left and leave 'em hanging like a testy  
Trash talk 'em and then put 'em in a heftie.  
Running down the court, I'm dunkin' on 'em, Lisa Leslie._

_It's going down, basement.  
Friday the 13th, guess who's playing Jason,  
Tuck yourself in you better hold on to your teddy,  
It's Nightmare on Elm Street and guess who's playin' Freddie._

"Drop it, Nemy. It's a party. We're here to have fun, right? Everyone should stop being anal about shit," Marvel muttered dismissively, shrugging his shoulders at Nick's confused, gaping expression and Cato's bitter gulp, the blond standing strong in his decision, clutching my hand a little tighter and pulling me closer to his frame in comfort, our sides touching, much like I had seen Katniss and Darius act before.

What were we at the moment?

No matter how close Cato was to my heart physically and metaphorically, my eyes followed Marvel as he patiently made his way to the bar, leaning on the counter with a undisturbed posture, his green eyes turning a shade of flirty that had _me_seeing green when they landed on the boyish bartender who had kept his mouth shut until he was addressed.

"Four Malibu shots, pretty boy," Marvel muttered silkily in a sweetly-innocent voice that held much stronger traces of an accent than normal, a sneaky, little smile gracing his lips, a display of control that I knew purposely edged Cato on, making him glare at the bartender with a warning sneer. If Cato was about to murder the employee before, he was sizzling to stab him repeatedly with the devil's pitchfork at the current moment. Nick made a chuckling noise that he carefully hid behind his hand, following Marvel and leaning casually on the counter next to the curly-haired boy whose attention hadn't wavered once from the working bartender, flickering the bottle impressively and filling the small shot glasses in front of Marvel gorgeous, judgmental eyes.

Marvel motioned for the number with his fingers though it wasn't necessary at all because the bartender was leaning so far in the counter to get closer to the teen, his ear right next to Marvel's big, teasing lips, that even if the customer whispered the request, the Hispanic would have heard it loud and clear but they were both playing the game.

I was amazed at how fast the icy-eyed, tanned boy caught on to Marvel's flirtatious attitude, his pupils dilating immediately, his tongue licking his lips in encouragement. His eyes were taking the liberty of checking Marvel out freely as he prepared the drinks, which I didn't think required that long to make, his brainless job being pouring liquid into a glass cup. He was taking his time though, watching the clearish, acidic substance drip right in the center though the bottle was considerably further away from the countertop. Marvel was indulging him with flapping lashes and sideways grins that had Nick crumbling in fits of giggles, which I found immature and uncalled for, considering how much suffering the display was causing Cato whose blue eyes snapped away from the two interacting when he noticed Marvel was going to play it vengeful.

He was jealous. I was jealous. It fucking sucked.

"Shots, guys?" Marvel muttered innocently towards us, pointing at the four prepared glasses, overflowing with liquid that amounted to at least a double, maybe a triple. With the way, creepy bartender was ogling Marvel, I was certain had Nick not been there, the curly-haired Adonis would have gotten date-raped. I gave Marvel a sad glance when he addressed us and that seemed to break to him a little bit, his eyes turning regretful before Cato's snapped comment drove him back into the hole, deeper than before.

"We've had enough for today, thanks." Blunt as a rusty knife and agonizing as the aforementioned object. My hand traced circles in his shaking one to calm him down, my eyes staring at his avoiding ones in worry. I wanted to kiss his pain away but at the same time I didn't want to throw more fuel in the fire. I wanted to protect them both and the more I noticed how hopeless it would be to be in Marvel's side of the coven, now that the children would be parted for sure, the more I knew I would be hurt with every option I picked.

"Suit yourself. Take one with us then, sexy?" Marvel dismissed just as bluntly before he addressed the bartender who grinned like a Cheshire cat, nodding like an obedient puppy, his hand not even hesitating before cupping the shot glass. I heard Cato mumble 'whore' bitterly under his breath and my lips tapped his upset ones once to shush him with affection, uttering a small 'please, Cato' under my breath that had him reluctantly nodding despite the fire of destruction behind his eyes. Nick looked like he wanted to start a fight and by the look of undeserved pride in the bartender's face at Marvel's undivided attention, he would gladly team up to teach the bratty, blond who had disrespected him a lesson.

The three took their shots in speedy movements, chuckling afterwards with squinted faces, their lips wet with the alcohol. I saw the bartender dutifully pull out the fat sharpie and hold it between him fingers as Nick offered him his arm, receiving the mark without much care, his total reaching six without the clock hitting midnight. I gaped at their tolerance.

When the Hispanic boy turned hesitantly towards Marvel who smiled slyly, the curly haired boy gently pried the sharpie out of the older's trembling fingers, his eyes never leaving the icy blue ones as he grasped the other boy's forearm to himself slowly and seductively. I couldn't look away and I noticed Cato was eyeing the situation from the corner of his eye as well, hissing when he caught on to Marvel's intentions.

I caught the gasp that the bartender released, his face inches from Marvel's amused one, as I waited in bitter panic to discover if Marvel was really going to make a move, sink that low—as low as I did with Damien. But the curly-haired god dropped his eyes to the exposed skin, using the opened sharpie to scribble down a total of ten digits across the tanned, muscled forearm. He gave the bartender one more sultry wink, gulping the last shot with a satisfied smirk and challenging eyes, making to move away as the sharpie shook in the Hispanic's hand, his mind torn between doing his job and following his craving desire.

He must have noted the great number of strikes on Marvel's smooth forearm because after the second shot, he sobered up from his daze, making the smart decision to address Marvel with a shaky 'sir' that I found as amusing as Nick who barked out loud in amusement, his eyes never finding anything wrong with the display Cato and I were being 'forced' to witness.

_Chef cooking for me, they say my shoe came crazy  
The mental asylum looking for me.  
You a rookie to me. I'm in that wham-bam-purple-lam,  
Damn, bitch, you've been a fan._

Marvel turned around with a fake smile, plastered on his beautiful face, his eyes dancing in cold manipulation, making the other boy stutter ridiculously in hesitation. He approached the counter again, leaning on it and staring at the frozen boy who played with the sharpie, twirling it between his fingers without making a move. I saw the flirt's hand nestle in his pocket before he pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill, waving it in front of the bartender's face with a knowing smile.

I saw the grin on the Hispanic's blushing visage as the sharpie was forever forgotten, rolling down the counter and dropping on the floor, neglected. Marvel made a move for the other boy who stood still, not going for the obvious trap that the money held. I knew he was caught between shock and arousal, freezing on the spot with a tense body, as the curly-haired boy that I cared so much for fingered the elastic of the other's colorful briefs, slowly pulling it forward, stretching it far enough for all of us to get a glimpse of the patch of curly, black pubes that surrounded his very stiff member. He smirked at the sight, sticking the money in and slapping the underwear back in place, his eyes sliding up the other's body with a seductive wink.

I saw Nick's face fall into amused shock, his hand covering his eyes in a mock-horrified expression that carried more humor than disbelief. I felt Cato twitch beside me, his eyes rock hard with furious rage, as his nails dug deep into the skin of my hand, sharp enough to draw blood only releasing their hold when I hissed in distress. I saw the humiliated crimson-red blush on the bartender's face, staining his features as much as his pride, before the other smiled as well, accepting the treatment much more willingly then I imagined, his eyes glued to Marvel's retreating ass as the other boy walked away for good.

"You need a phone to receive calls, Marvie," I murmured casually with an innocent voice that did little to mask my bitterness when he passed close to us with his bratty, victorious air. He stopped dead in his track with a perplexed expression before his lips curved into an impressed smile, his eyebrows shooting up as much as Cato's who looked at me in slight disappointment, questioning my motifs.

"_Have fun talking to Finnick. You both are little bitches."_

I couldn't regain control of my agonized body to even start thinking of a comeback as he walked away from us lazily, Nick shrugging behind him in a move that told me I had dug my own grave and he was going to do nothing to stop me from falling in. Cato wrapped his arm around my shoulders in a reassuring embrace when he felt my trembling, his warm, moving lips on my temple, whispering words of comfort that had a shade of astonishment in them, telling me even the blond had not expected that blow.

I couldn't enjoy his attention though because at the moment the only thing running through my chaotic mind was the fact that he had compared me to Finnick. He had said I was like the French brat that constantly tortured him emotionally to the point of mental breakdowns. He had said I was like him when that time in my room he had confessed he liked me more than the rest because I was so very different from the mysterious man that called him seventeen times to apologize after driving him to tears the night before.

He had said I had lost my charm and I was starting to think Cato was not enough.

* * *

**Final A/N:**

**This story is officially discontinued and will not continue to update on this site. The reason for this abrupt stop was my growing distaste for the incomplete plotline. I have turned this idea into an original novel that is updating frequently on Wattpad, the Canadian, writing site. **

**For a taste of that piece find me under JaymeDray or use the link that is on my profile. It is solely my creation and can afford to include smut, violence and strong language. If you enjoyed anything from this fiction, please give it a shot because it is much, much, much more improved. **

**Thank you for everything up to this point,**

**Jayme Dray**


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